Chasing the Dragon
by thegoldentouch
Summary: When a politically charged Magical world in turmoil suddenly becomes his problem, Kaiba finds that not all fairy-tales are just stories and sometimes, in the absence of a hero, even a reluctant Anti-Hero will do. YGOHP
1. Prologue

* * *

_-**Prologue**- _

* * *

The departure lounge was bathed in sultry shades of dusk. The setting sun had stained the sky in vivid shades of purple, crimson and gold, a vivid display of color before night's invasive shadows wrapped the scenery in black obscurity. 

From where they sat the airplanes resembled giant birds of prey, bathed in crimson and casting long, warped shadows across the seemingly endless stretch of tarmac. They had been waiting for quite some time, not that it surprised either of them, they had traveled enough to know that prompt departures were not to be expected where airplanes and more importantly, air_lines _were concerned.

They were an eclectic pair, the two of them.

The youngest sprawled untidily across at least three of the uncomfortable terminal chairs as he pressed avidly at the buttons of his blaring game boy, whooping excitedly along with the corresponding explosions. A wild mane of black straggled passed his shoulders and through slate-blue eyes that were fixed with such intense concentration upon the screen of his game console. Dressed in rag-tag jeans, a hastily chosen crumpled, red t-shirt and sneakers he looked like an average twelve year old boy.

His companion was quite the opposite.

He sat tall and proudly, seeming to command the space that he sat in and a great deal more, as he flicked lazily through a deck of cards, shuffling with the practiced hand of a card-shark. Chestnut hair just brushed the tips of sooty eye-lashes and was just messy enough to make one wonder if it bothered him at all. As he shuffled, his eyes, a dark and striking shade of blue, seemed in a perpetual state of amusement laced with disdain. It was an expression that often gave those who fell directly under it the distinct impression that he knew something about themselves that they didn't, and that, on the inside at least, he was laughing at them.

From the long charcoal duster emblazoned with an entwined _KC _at the collar and the shining silver-briefcase resting at his side to his pointed buckled boots, trappings of black leather and shining silver buckles he was every bit the contradiction. He might have passed as a street punk with a taste for designer couture or a corporate giant stranded in teenaged rebellion. Or, as was the most likely case, an unwitting combination of both.

Whatever he was, he was most certainly _not _an average sixteen year old.

Some around them muttered, convinced that they should recognize the elder boy. Others had clearly already stumbled upon recognition. Seto Kaiba never _did_ try very hard to remain inconspicuous.

As the sun sank low behind the sprawling Los Angeles skyline a clear feminine voice declared over the crackling intercom, "Flight 274 leaving Los Angeles for Osaka, Japan is now boarding from Gate 23. _Flight ____274 from._."

The elder boy ceased the shuffling of his deck and slipped the cards into his pocket, rising gracefully to his feet and reaching for the briefcase at his side promptly.

The younger of the two jumped brightly to his feet, stowing his Game Boy into the pocket of his jeans and giving a pronounced roll of his eyes. "_Finally_!"

Seto Kaiba's lips twitched indulgently at the proclamation as the pair turned to begin their walk towards their designated gate.

Mokuba Kaiba returned the near-smile with a grin of his own and skipped a step idly. "It feels like forever since we've been home," he observed to the air, glancing slyly in his brother's direction. "Doesn't it?"

Seto nodded. "Forever."

At that moment Domino City seemed a world away, but the spark of anticipation that drew a gleam to Seto Kaiba's eyes and tugged persistently at his lips said it all.

Domino City wouldn't know what had hit it.

* * *

**An: **I never thought that I too would be adding to the boundless number of HP/YGO crossovers that populate the YGO fandom. However, in penance for this I shall at least endeavor to keep this fic entirely original. This story will not have YGO characters attending Hogwarts, it will not have YGO characters teaching at Hogwarts and Voldemort is not after the power of the Sennen Items.  
You will find that the few OC's that make it into this story will be infrequent, largely unimportant and as unobtrusive as possible.  
Thus far, the format goes as follows, there will be several 'books'. Each of them will follow one particular member of the _Yuugiou_ or _Harry Potter _cast. This particular 'book' follows the events through Seto Kaiba's eyes and his own adventure as it tangles together with those of the others. The time line takes place with Kaiba's return from America after Battle City and the middle of the Summer Holidays before Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts. This means that A) for you anime watchers, the DOMA saga has not yet happened and Atemu shouldn't know his true name, yet he does. B) Bakura is still in possession of the Sennen Eye and Ring while the Ishtars have relinquished their items to Yuugi.  
And while I may have frequent lapses where I seem to be idling in updates you can be assured that I _am _working on the next chapter and that a visit to the Forum (located in the YGO section or available through my profile,) will usually produce a mass of tortured whining about what is taking me so long.

* * *

"_My name is Bobbin – Are you my mother?_"


	2. Carved in Stone

**Summary:**All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother, what he got was a magical revolution.. An ordinary life never looked so tempting.  
**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.  
**Disclaimer: **Neither Harry Potter or Yu-Gi-Oh! belong to me. I sense your astonishment, but bear with me. The characters (by and large) belong to their respective owners, I'm just playing with them, I swear I'll put them back in the box when I'm finished.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;  
_  
Chasing the Dragon  
_  
-Chapter One-  
**Carved in Stone.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus- _

* * *

Seto Kaiba knew from the moment that he cracked open his drowsy eyes that something wasn't quite right.

He awoke in unfamiliar territory. The Hotel alarm clock, possibly the most aggravating and destructive noise to exist beyond a jubilant crowing that Seto had once heard emanate from Katsuya Jounouchi's lips, was for once not the cause.(**1**) This of course, was entirely unusual. His mind informed him that it was an utterly indecent time to be awake and Seto was inclined to agree, already cursing the person who was ballsy enough to wake him at such a ridiculous time of the – _morning?_

A low, labored groan worked it's way up Seto's throat as an invasive beam of sunlight beat down upon his weighted eyelids. How could it possibly be morning already?

A sudden sharp jolt to the mattress beneath Seto's back sent the elder Kaiba jerking awake, eyes springing open then squeezing shut again at the onslaught of brilliant sunshine that assaulted them. The jolt returned, complete with subdued snickering, and Seto cautiously cracked his eyes open again.

"Morning 'Nii-sama!" Was the positively bubbly morning greeting from somewhere around his ankles.

With the dull morning haze quickly evaporating from his brain Seto dutifully proceeded to assess the situation.

Late morning, Mokuba awake and Seto himself; Still in bed.

Needless to say the young businessman was puzzled. With a thirst for an answer to the equation (and a healthy dose of caffeine) he delved further into his thoughts. An unusual itching and heaviness in his eyes, lead-weight in his limbs and the protesting of a mind that screamed out for more sleep (and most likely a pay-rise too. That _was,_after all, what protesters usually had at the top of their demand lists.) It took several moments for Seto to come up with a satisfactory answer and he felt an odd sense of satisfaction rise in his chest upon procuring one, despite the grimace that marred his face.

Jet lag.

A yawn drew its way through his lips at the fuzzy memory of a darkened air terminal in Osaka earlier that morning, 3am if he recalled rightly. It wasn't long before he was interrupted from his thoughts by a glimpse of a wicked tangle of raven-black hair. Seto raised his head from it's pillow to eye his younger brother with a shrewd but sleepy stare.

The younger Kaiba, still clad in Blue Eyes White Dragon pajamas and looking the very picture of endearing light-hearted charm, was still bouncing enthusiastically up and down on his older brother's mattress. Seto fought back the urge to laugh. Oh, the kid was _good._

The boy addressed his brother's stare as he stopped bouncing and slumped down to sit on the mattress with a beaming smile upon his lips that was upset by the calculating gleam in his eyes. Weakly returning the favor as he recalled the plane ride that had carried over into the earlier hours of the morning, Seto noted that his younger brother was not suffering nearly so badly from jet lag. The kid had slept for half of the plane-ride and all of the car-ride home.

Seto recalled with a scornful smile the gushing whispers of the star-struck airport night-staff when he had piggy-backed the younger Kaiba through the main terminal to the waiting car. The kid was lucky. Seto had never been able to sleep on planes, which he had always presumed a_ good_ thing when one was piloting one but entirely undesirable when one was the passenger.

Seto jolted from his thoughts at the sound of his younger brother's voice in his ears and directed his sleepy stare to his brother's face. A frown had dissolved the boy's cheerful expression and he seemed vaguely exasperated by his older brother's actions, _whatever_ it was that he had done.

"_Earth _to Seto!" The twelve year-old exclaimed exasperatedly, waving a hand vigorously in front of his brother's eyes and scowling.

Seto wisely restrained the urge to laugh at his brother's indignation and similarly withheld the smile that threatened to spill over his lips. An eyebrow danced upwards against his will, however, as he stated with perfectly infuriating calm, "I'm listening.."

"I was _saying,_" Mokuba groused raising a hand to silence the protest that he knew was coming as he continued loudly, "That since you aren't going into work today we should do something fun.."

At Seto's clearly dubious raise of eyebrows the younger brother added a prompt, "-_like_going to Kaiba Land! You haven't dueled since.."

Mokuba broke off abruptly, the picture of penance as he licked his lips nervously and scoured his brother's face covertly through lowered lashes.

Seto had taken the loss of his own tournament hard, to put it lightly. Battle City had been meant to be Seto Kaiba's final, glorious triumph over Yuugi Mutou and the lingering stain of Gozaburo Kaiba. Needless to say, things hadn't gone _quite _as planned.

Mokuba was greeted by a thoroughly amused and entirely unexpected smile. The knowing gleam in Seto's eyes made it clear that Mokuba's careful machinations had not gone unnoticed, before he replied with deliberate nonchalance. "You're right Mokuba."

Seto's smile twitched further at the bewildered expression that Mokuba didn't even bother to hide.

"I haven't dueled in much too long."

With a sidelong glance that gaged his brother's reaction, Seto stretched his arms high over his head with a resounding crack of his shoulder-blades and let out another persistent yawn.

The younger sibling's smile was contagious as his eyes lit up. It was rare that Seto Kaiba was at liberty to be in such an obligingly good mood these days, even towards his brother, which meant that while he _was_it was a good idea to take full advantage of the situation. This was something that Mokuba had learned to master a long time ago.

The truth of the matter was that the frenzy of meetings, negotiations and challenges set down in America had given Seto Kaiba exactly what he had needed most. It had given him time to think, a situation to focus on and more importantly put space between him and Yuugi Mutou. (**2**)

While still nursing his wounded pride, still irritable about his defeat and more determined than ever that he should defeat Yuugi Mutou once and for all, Seto had conceded that the grudging respect he had begun to feel for his rival _was,_ at least in part, deserved.

With a distinct twist of something akin to irritation touching his face at the very thought of his rival, Seto Kaiba extracted himself from his bed covers and, stretching his arms languidly over his head until his shoulders cracked, cast a nonchalant glance over his shoulder at his painfully observant younger brother.

"What was it you were saying about Kaiba Land?"

* * *

Midday found the younger Kaiba brother tearing up a stretch of concrete steps that led into the largest arcade in Domino City. An arcade that just so happened to be owned by his older brother, not that Mokuba Kaiba had ever found it necessary to drop names to get what he wanted.

Being Vice-President of a multi-national corporation _did _have it's share of perks after all.

The three entwined steel dragons that framed the gigantic glass doors caught the sunlight as the boy paused in his conquest of the stairway, turned on his heel and leveled an exasperated stare upon the trailing figure of his elder brother.

The younger brother tapped his sneakered foot impatiently upon the concrete steps, grinding them pointedly into the surface in an attempt to attract his brother's attention. When this failed Mokuba's scowl darkened, he would have to do this the hard way then.

"Se-_to!_ " the boy whined most impressively as he surveyed his brother's progress up the staircase with an impatience that was almost tangible.

Seto was dressed in a customary _Kaiba_ trench coat, this one a shade of deep blue and tailored to perfection, yet the same eccentric traits of the rest of his wardrobe shone out in this item of clothing as well. It, much like the long succession of trench-coats that came before it, flared out behind the businessman in a gravity defying sweep.(**3**)

Mokuba stared for several moments of diverted amusement at the phenomena, he had never managed to discover just how Seto managed to get his clothing to do it. Whatever it was, it was a trait that Mokuba hadn't received, something that he was a little disappointed about truth be told.

An amused smile flirted with Seto's lips as he covertly eyed his impatient brother. The boy knew very well that Seto wouldn't be caught dead _running_ to get into his own dueling arcade, it just wasn't fitting for his professional image.

This was perhaps why he was so surprised when Mokuba came tearing back down the steps towards him at a speed that made his savage head of hair become a black blur. The smile was surprised off of Seto's face as his brother snared his hand and seized the opportunity to tear back up the staircase.

Seto felt himself being tugged along at top speed towards the entrance. He had the distinct feeling that Mokuba either didn't hear his surprised yell of _'let go!_' or had simply chosen to ignore it. From the impish grin that graced his younger brother's lips Seto was inclined to believe the latter.

The Kaiba Land employees had never seen their President make an entrance quite the same. They did, however, make convincing attempts to keep their amusement private, at least until the elder Kaiba was a safe distance away.

Seto, despite feeling distinctly unamused by Mokuba's antics, found himself relaxing in the presence of his technology. He was in his element here, surrounded by things that he enjoyed. Mokuba, countless duels and of course the by-products of his technology.

Seto almost immediately felt an itching in his fingers begin. Surrounded by the sounds of countless duels Seto felt the desire for a challenge worming its way in to his blood. He had been quite right earlier, it had been _much_ too long since he'd last dueled.

He found his eyes roaming the crowds, almost instinctively searching for a crest of red-tipped black spikes and leather. The very thought made him grimace, if he didn't know better he might say that he was obsessed. Discarding the thought, he resumed his search, singling out any likely looking targets who he thought might put up a decent fight.

He wasn't surprised when his feet led him of their own accord towards the Champions Arena, he always had and always would be drawn to the most prestigious opponents. Only the best made it to the Champions Arena, he had made sure of that when he had designed it.

With Mokuba still attached to his arm, he steered the pair of them towards the largest and by-far flashiest of all of the dueling arenas that surrounded them. It also played host to the rowdiest crowd. It was natural of course, this was where all the _real_ duels took place, the ones that were really worth watching. Not too many duelists met the criteria of the Champions Arena.

The crowds soon parted as they recognized him.

Only _one_ of the many perks of being both the owner and a highly-ranked duelist.

Caffeine buzzed in his mind and his blood burned with the prospect of a challenge. There were several new additions to his deck that he had picked up whilst in America and he was more then eager to break them in.

The whispers echoed in his head as he strode towards the arena, where a duel was already in progress.

'_It's **Kaiba** _- '

_'No **way**! I thought he was _- '

''_**Seto Kaiba**! I **knew**it, d'you think he'll_ - '

_'It really **is** him!_' '_Is he going to **duel**?_'

The snatches of conversation lingered in his ears as the dueling arena came into sight. He could feel a familiar swagger returning to his walk and dutifully ignored the cheeky grin that crept onto Mokuba's face.

He realized with a half-smile and a twinge of near-sickening nostalgia just how much he had missed dueling during his stay in America. Perhaps he had been wrong in the past to say he had only ever dueled for the prestige – the rush that he was feeling could be considered addictive.

Seto's attention was attracted magnetically to the all-too-familiar voices that were curiously clear amidst the buzzing of the crowd.

"C'mon Jounouchi! You can do it!"

A grimace met his face as Seto caught a glimpse of vibrant golden hair from one of the dueling platforms. Jounouchi Katsuya. He should have known he would run into them today. Fate had a _very_twisted sense of humor when it came to Yuugi-tachi and himself.

"Come _on_Bakura! Stop torturing him and just finish it already!" Came the amused cry from the sidelines, courtesy of one of the decidedly less cheer-happy Yuugi-tachi.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence _Otogi_!" was the snarled retort from the blond and Seto found his lips twitching and his mood surging upwards.

It appeared Jounouchi was losing today – and somewhat badly.

Seto in turn focused his attention upon Jounouchi's opponent. Wisps of shocking long white hair framed an almost effeminate face and sharply attuned brown eyes. Seto found his mind stating recognition, his lips curved into a smirk as his back straightened and his arms lazily folded over his chest to observe the duel. He remembered the white-haired boy as a finalist in Battle City. Bakura Ryou if he recalled.

The older Kaiba found himself intrigued. The white-haired boy's occult-flavored cards and soft, eerie recitals of bewitching tales had successfully managed to upset the usually upbeat blond with surprising ease. Surprising, at least to anyone who couldn't see that Katsuya Jounouchi wasn't being uncommonly cautious in regards to the white-haired boy.

Seto could have laughed, in fact he probably would have done, if an extremely familiar voice hadn't exclaimed at that precise moment with _far _too much enthusiasm; "_Kaiba_-kun? I didn't know you were back in town!"

Craning his neck downwards, Seto found himself presented with the tips of an absurd crest of hair that could only belong to Yuugi Mutou. His smile slipped away sharply and he felt his blood burn – the urge to declare a challenge was almost as ridiculous as Mutou's hair.

Arching back fractionally so he could see his vertically-challenged rival's face, Seto arched an eyebrow gracefully. Mokuba frowned and took it upon himself to answer Yuugi, but not before casting a reprimanding stare in his elder brother's direction.

"We just flew in last night."

"So .. How was America?" Yuugi spoke up nervously, fingers ruffling his hair in a distracted manner.

The elder Kaiba's eyebrow shot up a few more degrees, Yuugi was acting even stranger then usual.

"Fine," he replied after a brief pointed silence spent trying to catch the shorter boy with one of his infamously penetrating stares.

Mutou however remained elusive.

It was quite obvious to Seto that Yuugi had no wish to hear about the dreary details of the Kaiba Brothers' misadventures in North America, but just _what_ the King of Games wanted remained a mystery.

Seto Kaiba knew from experience that he _could _be very good at the waiting game despite an inclination for avoiding it. He _could _wait it out until Yuugi had no choice but to reveal his real intentions for talking to him.

To the King of Games the only indication of the elder Kaiba's curiosity was the casually suspended eyebrow.

Absently Yuugi's eyes drifted toward his hands and Seto felt his lips twitch with irritation of their own volition. Deciding to forgo his waiting tactics, though he assured himself that he wasn't forfeiting in any way, he demanded in a decidedly harsher tone than he had intended. "What do you want, Yuugi?"

Mokuba shot a disapproving frown in his brother's direction.

Seto was unsurprised to find that this seemed to be precisely what Yuugi needed to pull himself together, in spite of Mokuba's disapproval. Lifting his head with an almost regal craning of his neck, the King of Games met Seto's eyes with a determined crimson gaze.

In an assertive tone 'Yuugi' declared, "I need to talk to you."

Seto found his lips twisting with irritation and his eyebrow twitched from it's higher vantage point. Blue eyes met crimson levelly.

Was that _not_ what they had been doing?

Seto managed, in a feat of kindness on his part, to tone down the sharpness in his tone before declaring stonily, "I'm listening."

Mokuba gave an approving nod in his brothers direction and his smile rekindled.

"Not _here,_" the shorter youth retorted quickly.

Crimson eyes were sweeping their surroundings in an act of paranoia that Seto was quite sure hadn't been present when he had left Domino City. Perhaps Yuugi really did have a mental illness.

"Someone might _hear,_"Yuugi hastened to add upon noticing the perplexed stare he had gained from his adversary.

As if to prove the smaller youth's point, a loud and obnoxious voice cut into their conversation in an act that Seto would later swear was intended to infuriate him personally.

"Hear what Yuugi?"

Seto's eyes turned in stony irritation towards the head of blondwith a trace of irony drawing a grimace to his lips. By the just-detectable droop of the blond's shoulders it was quite apparent that the boy had indeed, as his friend had predicted, lost his duel.

It took Jounouchi several moments to realize _who_ it was that his friend was talking to and he recoiled with a look of surprise as he yelped, "_Kaiba_!"

Finding that his blood pressure had already begun to rise with a vengeance and thinking it no small coincidence Seto glanced towards Mokuba instinctively. His younger brother was engaged in eying the victor of the duel thoughtfully. Deciding that this meant that Jounouchi was fair game as far as niceties went, Seto smirked.

"What is it now? You can't have forgotten I _own_ this place already? Though I can't say that it surprises me. After all, your kind are better known for their parlor tricks than their memories aren't they?"

Seto observed with interest as the blond's face changed color at least seven times before he was able of loose his tongue. What intelligent argument that Jounouchi had come up with, however, would have to remain a mystery, as Yuugi hurriedly intervened with an apologetic look in his best friend's direction.

" Jounouchi-kun, I need to talk to Kaiba."

The blond's argument was effectively shut down as he scowled at the King of Games.

"Kaiba-kun, could we.." The assertive tone had turned to exasperation.

Grimacing, Seto turned swiftly on his heel and announced a disinterested, "Follow me," over his shoulder.

Seto weaved his way expertly through the crowded arena, passed an information desk, public toilets and a gift shop before they veered into a decidedly less populated staff area and came to a corridor which, with a stern white sign, warned the public with bold, red letting that brokered no nonsense, _No Admittance_. Yuugi stared with distracted interest at the gray-blue walls as they passed door after locked door. It seemed they had been walking forever when Seto abruptly stopped, punched an entry code into the digital locking system on the wall and proceeded to wave him inside.

Yuugi was surprised to find that the room he had entered was furnished with a cluster of comfortable squashy furniture that ill-fitted the harsh corporate design of the room. He watched Seto as he seated himself in a seat behind a handsome wooden desk and quickly found his own seat in one of the eclectic squashy armchairs.

Seto spoke quickly and without wasted pleasantries.

"Lets make this quick Yuugi. I was planning to spend my day off with Mokuba and, quite frankly, you don't make much of a substitute."

Seto watched his adversaries face sharpen and allowed a flicker of humor to twitch at his lips.

"Kaiba,"Yuugi resumed at last, having decided to let the blunt statement slide.

He seemed to get stuck once he reached this point and frowned. "This.. Well."

Yuugi paused again, before he began to dig into the inside pockets of his jacket. Seto watched with a bemused expression and caught a glimpse of gold as Yuugi withdrew a _very_ familiar item.

"This is yours," he finished, placing the dull gold of the Sennen Rod carefully onto the polished wood of the desktop.

It rested with a heavy metallic clink as Yuugi sank back into his armchair.

* * *

**Footnotes**:  
**1**. I thought I'd make the point now, some of the opinions of other character's might seem somewhat harsh. I'm attempting to throw myself into Kaiba's frame of mind, how successfully I don't know, so naturally opinions will be Kaiba-biased.  
**2**. Following Battle City Kaiba takes off to America to go build a Kaiba Land.  
**3**. Starch I tell you. Starch.

* * *

**AN**: Due to a well of writer's block I've slipped into clean-up mode, which means that I'm slowly working my way through the earlier chapters to try and fix the glaring mistakes. If you still encounter anything of the sort, let me know and I'll fix them. I know there isn't any mentioning of HP yet. All in good time – I was never one to rush anything.  
Note: I'm endeavoring not to scatter eclectic Japanese phrases throughout this story as it just seems plain silly, the only break in this format will come with honorifics.

* * *

"_It was a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people eater!_"


	3. Blood Magic

* * *

**Summary:** All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother, what he got was a magical revolution.. An ordinary life never looked so tempting.  
**Warnings:** Possible future Shounen Ai of the very moderate fashion, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**Chasing the Dragon**

**- Chapter Two -  
**Blood Magic

-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

"This is yours." 

The dull gold came to a rest on his desk with a heavy clink as Yuugi sunk back into his armchair. Large eyes were uncommonly uncertain as they studied the other occupant of the room.

The Rod was liberally smudged with careless fingerprints and a visible residue of grime that, Seto acknowledged with an inexplicably rising level of agitation, was altogether un-befitting of anything of even the slightest historical importance (imagined or otherwise.)

Against the immaculate sheen of polished mahogany wood the item was dusty, ugly (not to mention _terribly _gaudy) and, altogether, undesirable. This was perhaps why Seto was so perturbed that he could ever feel so _drawn _towards it.

Seto stared at the item. It sat, suitably inanimate, and shone dully in the artificial light.

He glared at the item. It, _unsurprisingly_, didn't respond.

For something that was acting precisely like a perfectly natural hunk of molded metal it was certainly able to inspire an overwhelming surge of anger in Seto's mind. Without even noticing the elder Kaiba's breathing began to quicken, drawing in sharp uneven hisses through gritted teeth, as blue eyes were held transfixed by the far _too _innocent play of light (just how was it _moving _so?) across it's surface.

It was, Seto mused as he sucked in a particularly long breath and leaned fractionally forward in his chair, quite beautiful. Breath escaping in a long, laboured hiss the elder Kaiba shifted further forwards, perched on the very edge of his seat as though struck by something curious.

There was something, he registered headily, about the way the light rippled across it's surface.. Almost like the liquid fire of a sunset over the ocean, it was.. Enticing. Beautiful. Almost hypnotic..

No.

Seto stiffened, jerking back in his chair and head snapping upwards, eyes averted from the ugly, wretched metal. It was not _beautiful _in any sense, it was ostentatious, filthy (and gaudy too, he reminded himself stiffly) and he had never desired anything more in his life..

No, that wasn't right either.

Seto barely contained the growl that was gathering in his throat, long fingers seeking out his temples as his eyes slid shut and blessed _relief _from that impenetrable swirl of beauteous liquid fire came in the form of never-ending _black. _

This was one of Mutou's tricks, he determined, taking a slow, deep inhale of breath and pushing away the rise of heat that gripped his chest. He wouldn't have it.

Blue eyes snapped open abruptly, rising sharply to meet those of his rival and pointedly evading the piece of shimmering (no, _gaudy_, he insisted) gold.

With a chillingly level voice, that took more out of the elder Kaiba to maintain than he would willingly admit to, Seto spoke, blue eyes hard and unmoved. "I do not want any part of your Egyptian fantasies, Yuugi."

Seto didn't notice the reciprocal hardening of his rival's eyes, nor did he notice the ominous drawing together of eyebrows, Seto Kaiba didn't care to test his face-reading skills at present. The elder Kaiba found himself quite preoccupied with attempting to make the King of Games spontaneously combust with the power of his eyes.

Seto's preoccupation only seemed to aggravate his rival further, something that was universally acknowledged to be a very unwise move.

Later on, Seto would account Yuugi's sudden and violent exclamation to a flare-up in Yuugi's, understandably, severe case of the 'Short-Man Syndrome'. The elder Kaiba presumed that being of such diminutive height did not make the King of Games particularly lenient towards those who didn't face the same vertical issues that he did.

In reality, the King of Games didn't particularly _need _the height.

_"Kaiba!"_ the King of Games had snarled, rising to his feet and slamming his hands, palm-down on the wooden desk in one graceful motion.

Seto couldn't help but notice, with no small amount of suspicion, that the resulting trauma had sent the Rod skittering further towards _his_ side of the desk.

Blazing crimson eyes met Seto's head on, as with a suddenness that was astounding to someone who had invested a great deal of time in _Yuugi_-baiting, the other's temper boiled over. Despite the lack of height to back him up, the fierce stare on the King of Games' face was suitably intimidating.

"You can't continue to ignore your Past, – your _Destiny_. The Rod has chosen you to become it's master once again! It used Malik to find it's way closer to you," crimson eyes were brilliantly frantic with their fervour, his words were impassioned with complete and utter _faith_.

'Yuugi' paused, inhaling sharply and checking the urgency that burned upon his tongue before he spoke again, eyes capturing Seto's firmly within their strangely compelling depths, "Kaiba.. I _know_ that you are going to need that Rod.. And that we're going to need _you_."

The moment that the King of Games had spoken the words he knew that he had made a mistake, the visible recoil that the elder Kaiba gave only cemented it.

"_Listen,_ Yuugi," Seto began stiffly, inhaling deeply as he fought to shake off the surge of panic and anger that swam through his blood at such a proclamation.

"_No!_ It's time that _you_ listened, Kaiba!" the King of Games snarled back with a ferocity that startled Seto into forgetting what had been poised upon his tongue.

"Something isn't right! _I_ can feel it – _Yuugi_ can feel it.-"

If Seto thought it odd that the King of Games had referred to himself in third person, he didn't show it.

"We are being _hunted_, Kaiba," when the King of Games leaned forward in his chair Seto could see that 'Yuugi's crimson eyes were now curiously bright, vivid with _fear _that was so tangible that it physically _stung. _

"Everywhere we go, everywhere we look they are _there_. Domino isn't safe anymore," an incredulous and panicked laugh. "_No_where is safe."

And in a flash he was in control again, the fear slipping away to replace a determined and demanding stare that made Seto feel faintly uneasy. "No Kaiba, you _will_ accept your destiny or we'll all be hunted down and picked off, one by one. We need your help Kaiba, whether you care to give it or not."

'Yuugi' slumped exhausted into his armchair, eyes clouding over as he trailed off into silence and a troubled frown creased his brow. Seto, mouth suddenly dry and uneasiness settling like a blanket over his thoughts, found himself presented with the opportunity to study his rival in silence.

Crimson eyes that so often held _the_ challenge now held only worry and fear as they studied fidgeting hands and thoroughly-chewed nails.

It was not a sight that boded well for anyone. Seto's own mind was racing, he was not fool enough to pretend that Yuugi wasn't usually _right _when it came to the dangers that were so often called down upon their heads. His blood was boiling with an anger that had no true direction and his hands were trembling with the effort that it took to keep from venting it upon Yuugi Mutou.

He had told them.. _How _many times had he told them? Told them that it was up to a man to shape his _own_ destiny. He had told them that the _Past_ was only a means to move forward.

Those who stopped to look backwards got lost in the crowd.

Closing his eyes again to the blissful soothing darkness, he found himself uttering the words that he had, so long ago, locked into his brain, "Men at some time are masters of their fates: The fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings." (**1**)

He didn't notice the crimson stare that rose from trembling fingers to regard him closely.

Blue eyes opened briefly to inspect the now subtly shimmering golden Rod that sat, so very innocently, upon his desk. If he were to take the Rod, Seto knew that he would be binding himself to believing what he had always scoffed at. His feelings were waging bloody war upon one another, every fibre of his being struggling against another in order to just be heard.

This had to be another of Yuugi Mutou's tall-tales.. Didn't it?

But his memory refused to forget what was inscribed upon that ancient stone tablet. It had been _that _and a vague and stately woman by the name of Isis Ishtar, that had begun all of this folly about his _Destiny_ and his _Past_. It had been the text that no-living person should have been able to read or understand. The text that _he_ had read as clearly as if it were his morning newspaper.

Almost as though they were drawn to it, his fingers stretched towards the Sennen Rod of their own accord. He snatched them back to himself hurriedly.

If he touched it, that grimy (and yes, gaudy) source of all of his problems – what would happen?

Would he be damned to become another player in the elaborate game that Yuugi Mutou had constructed around himself? The _game_ that had taken reasonable people and absorbed them so wholly that they truly believed that what he had created was reality.

Would _he_ be able to determine what was fact and what was fiction?

Seto found his fingers itching to simply snatch up that dirty golden item, to take control of the situation once and for all, to prove it all a hoax - consequences be _damned_. Almost of its own will his hand stretched eagerly toward the Rod and made the decision for him.

Yuugi didn't doubt, that had Seto's thoughts had the time to catch up with his hands, he wouldn't have done anything of the sort.

The impact was violent and immediate.

Yuugi barely had time to turn away as an eruption of dazzlingly _white_ light exploded against his senses followed by an equally encompassing rush of black nothingness.

The room was an endless swimming warp of hungry black and burning, scouring white that grated and ground, drowning in one another. The shadows twisted and churned, drawing hungrily in upon Seto, anchoring his limbs in silken bonds and seeping through him, over him, into him.

Showers of shattered glass burst over them as the neon-lights were overcome and destroyed and somewhere in the distance the emergency generator struck up a low, mournful wail.

Yuugi gasped with pain as his mind was assaulted with fragmented memories that weren't his own. Facets of faces, places, times and colours laid siege to his mind. He found, with a guilty shudder, that he was extremely glad that they _weren't_ his.

Seto's head exploded with pain as memories forced themselves upon him in an unrelenting stream. Memories that had been repressed for many long years were pillaged and plundered , returning to storm his mind with vivid recollection. All control was gone – his memories had taken over everything.

And there was blood.

Vibrant, beautiful blood that swam over him. Rolling through his fingers and over his hands – down his forehead, staining rich mahogany a shade of darkest crimson. Bruises found colour and swelled upon his skin. Yuugi stared in horror as the Rod extended into a gleaming dagger in Seto's grip, slicing through the soft flesh of his rivals palm. The gold drunk deep of the liquid and suddenly it didn't seem so dirty any more. (**2**)

Yuugi watched, mesmerised, as Seto struggled to toss the Rod away, yet it seemed to have burnt itself into his very flesh. He watched with horror as his rivals bleeding hands began to blister with the heat.

Guttural groans of pain tore up Seto's throat but his mind seemed suddenly vacant.

Beyond his memories Seto had found glittering shards of places, people and times that were foreign to him. He saw himself but it was not himself. These alien strange memories hurt even more then his own did. They were like shards of broken glass grating against his mind, never quite making sense. Like an obscure Picasso painting that was so distorted he could not see what it was supposed to be. (**3**)

His mind was buckling under the pressure.

Another, sudden explosion of light flooded the room. He saw vivid red through his closed eyelids and another groan was wrenched free from his mouth. The light struck viciously at the writhing shadows that had leeched onto him and drove them clear. The bruises that coloured his skin shrank away and the tiny nicks and cuts in his skin closed – only the wound upon his hand refused to heal.

"_Kaiba!_"

Yuugi Mutou's desperate yelling harassed his ears and with difficulty he cast off the haze that clung to his senses. Control returned in gradual degrees, his breathing had turned to rasping gasps that shook his entire body, his arms trembled and his head was cold with sweat and dripping rich warm blood through his vision.

The Rod burnt white-hot in his hand.

Slowly, distractedly, he surveyed the external damage with a pounding headache and a severely shaken sense of normality.

Broken glass littered every surface and the dull emergency lights had flicked on at some point. The siren had ceased wailing some time previously.

Seto felt his breath hitch as the Rod slowly began to cool against his skin. He struggled to focus his eyes upon Yuugi. The boy, his _rival,_ was trembling visibly - his face was drained of colour and tears welled in wide amethyst eyes as they watched, horror apparent.

Yuugi seemed to start abruptly from his shock, shifting weakly in his chair, his eyes never once leaving Seto's face.

"Are you alright, Kaiba-kun?"

Seto found himself struggling to assert any form of command over his body, it was as if, he mused, his limbs were suffering static interference. His vision swam as he adjusted himself in his chair, lifting his head groggily to return the amethyst stare that was fixed upon him.

"I'm fine."

Raising a shaking hand he combed it through sweat(blood?)-soaked bangs and wiped away the residual crimson with a shaken grimace. His eyes already beginning to adjust to the muted glow of the emergency lights.

Blue eyes turned, slowly, cautiously, towards the gold that clung to him, suspended in a bleeding and protesting hand. The blinding heat of the Sennen Rod had cooled now, the once-dirty gold seemed to gleam vivaciously, as though polished. Not a trace of grime could be seen.

With a suddenness that caused the badly shaken Yuugi to start and omit a sound that was frighteningly akin to a squeak, the Rod was hurled violently towards the wall. It struck loudly and hit the floor with a soft thud.

Seto watched with morbid fascination as it proceeded to roll gently across the floor back toward his seat.

His burnt and injured hand throbbed violently as he cautiously lifted it for inspection. The cut was deep, the skin around it blistered and weeping. Seto hurriedly squashed his eyelids shut and sucked in a deep rattling breath, waiting patiently for his body to better absorb the shock.

Slowly, his limbs ceased to shake and his breathing returned to normal. The pounding in his head receded ever backwards and he found himself able to open his eyes and meet the anxious, amethyst stare of Yuugi Mutou with a pathetic attempt at his usual confidence.

"_Fine_," he repeated at the disbelieving stare that now festered on the King of Games' face.

"Maybe you should go home and rest." Yuugi suggested with a steadily increasing state of anxiety.

The King of Games could see in the paleness of his adversary's skin and the shaking of his hands that, whatever it was that the Sennen Rod had done, it had completely drained him of energy. Seto looked as if he were recovering from a week-long fever.

Yuugi quickly wished that he hadn't said anything.

Rage ignited in Seto's vivid blue eyes reminding his rival _precisely_ who he was dealing with.

"I told you, I'm _fine_, Yuugi." Seto hissed as he looked to stand on unsteady legs. "I'm here to spend the day with Mokuba."

Seto's eyes were stone-set and stubborn as he began a slow unsteady walk around the desk, forcing his legs to do his bidding. He would not let Yuugi Mutou or a piece of _Gold _stop him from spending time with his little brother. The younger Kaiba deserved one day, at least.

His vision blurred and he bit down on his lip to restrain a corresponding hiss of pain. Grappling with the side of the desk he halted his onslaught, watching with morbid interest as scarlet dripped from his fingers and the polished wood to hit the carpet in soft, rhythmic droplets.

His hand would have to be bandaged.

Fierce blue eyes pinned down his rival as he rose to his feet obviously intending to assist, however, the quivering Yuugi Mutou had disappeared and a determined crimson gaze filled his place.

"Don't be foolish Kaiba, at least let me look at that," he declared sharply, acknowledging Seto's hand with a pointed tilt of his head.

Seto drew in a deep breath and stood tall again. He took several more unsteady steps towards the door but was met by a determined King of Games who deftly pushed him into an armchair.

With a growl of evident frustration at being treated thus by his _rival, _Seto made to get up again but was shot a dire glare. Seto, reluctantly, remained where he was. Instead making it his business to level the haughtiest, most disdainful sneer that he could muster upon the King of Games as he rummaged through desk drawers with a frown in place.

Silence reigned over the room for several moments, hindered only by Seto's low, irritable muttering. He toyed with the cuffs of his coat distractedly, listening to the soft _pitter patter _of liquid crimson trickling to the floor, before letting out a frustrated growl and putting voice to the question that been ricocheting around his mind for the past five minutes.

"What the _hell_ did that thing do to me?"

It seemed that his rival had found what he was looking for, as Yuugi abruptly stood straight and, shimmying around the desk, strode back towards Seto. There was a faint sense of perplexity lingering in his crimson eyes as he set a bright-red plastic box on the desk-top and clicked it open.

"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted solemnly as he began to rummage through the contents of the box. "I believe it might have been testing you."

Seto watched the King of Games with narrowed eyes as he peered at a small bottle of antiseptic spray. Obviously having decided that this would be useful he set it aside before continuing his scavenger hunt through the first-aid box. When he turned up with cotton-swabs and bandages he seemed extremely pleased with himself.

Casting aside the box the King of Games rounded on him with the antiseptic spray and swabs. Gritting his teeth, Seto proceeded to ignore his rival to the best of his ability, as a firm hand seized hold of his injured appendage and the bottle was wielded at it like a weapon. Repressing a hiss of pain as the antiseptic stung at his wound, Seto ground his teeth together and squished his eyes firmly shut.

He felt, with another stab of striking pain, the King of Games swab carefully at the wound before eventually drawing out the bandages. Seto couldn't help the grimace that crossed his face when a satisfied voice announced with a touch of pride. "All done!"

Seto cracked open an eye, surveyed the handiwork and let out an unerringly disgusted groan. He eyed his hand pointedly before lifting openly unamused blue eyes toward his rival. Upon seeing the less then pleased expression on Seto's face, the King of Games scowled defensively.

"Well, I never _said_ I was a doctor."

Seto, gripping the arms of the chair slightly too hard, managed to regain his feet with the appearance of much less pain than he felt and with a frown marring his face sneered out a distasteful, "I feel like I'm wearing one of those ridiculous giant foam hands." (**4**)

The elder Kaiba paused, eyeing the offending bandaging again before amending with the slightest of twitches at his lip, "I _look _like I'm wearing one of those ridiculous giant foam hands."

The King of Games scowled in response.

When the King of Games' hands once again closed in on him, Seto jerked backwards, eyeing the antiseptic bottle and cotton swab with evident distrust. "What are you doing?"

A scowl was the only reply and Seto cursed loudly as the over-spray of antiseptic stung at his eyes. The elder Kaiba levelled a watery glare at his rival as he began to swab clumsily at his forehead.

"Excuse _me_, if I didn't think you'd want your brother to see you with blood dripping down your face."

With a final grunt the King of Games pushed aside his medical supplies and gave a satisfied nod of his head. "Finished."

"_Finally_," Seto intoned beneath his breath and stepped away from his rival sharply, ignoring the affronted look that he received in return.

A soft thud against his boot drew Seto's attention from the scowling Atemu towards his feet. A very obvious, very nasty scowl grew upon his face as he glared down at the gleaming golden item that lay pointedly beside his boots.

He had always known nothing good would come of his association with Yuugi Mutou.

* * *

It was with growing ease that Seto strode down the corridor, pleased to find that the crippling weariness he had been experiencing was slowly ebbing away to be replaced with a strange sense of wholeness and new, hidden reserves. 

His every nerve seemed alive, sizzling with new power and vitality.

Yuugi, several steps behind, shook his head with a frustrated sigh. It had become apparent through several failed attempts at further conversation that Seto didn't wish to discuss the matter any further.

He couldn't help but be slightly awed by the determination that his adversary held to follow through on his promise to spend the day with Mokuba. He was obviously still in pain.

Resignedly Yuugi trailed his adversary down the narrow hall. It didn't seem that he would be discussing anything in any depth with Seto until he had had time to come to grips with the events that had already passed.

Yuugi only hoped that it wouldn't take _too_ long.

* * *

Seto proved true to his word. 

He spent the remainder of the day beating back opponents in some of the most spectacular duels of the day, gleaning only minor suspicion from the clumsy bandaging that encased his hand. One of such duels had featured a stunning combination of some of his newest acquisitions against the white-haired Ryou Bakura.

The former-pharaoh had watched over the duel with curiosity sparking inside. He had never laid witness to the real Ryou Bakura duelling before and was surprised to see just how good the boy proved to be. The dark Spirit of the Ring had always been in control whenever he had faced the other boy, and he had never felt inclined to question whether the _real_ Bakura was as much of a challenge.

It became apparent that, although the placid-natured boy was in full control, he was anything but placid when he duelled. Katsuya Jounouchi promptly forgot his previous defeat to the white-haired boy and roared encouragement from the side-lines. Not that it _helped_ Ryou to any degree, something that Otogi had rather bluntly pointed out after a particularly aggressive bout of encouragement from the blond.

The white-haired boy had put up a stubborn challenge and Seto had noted with some amusement that he showed no signs of annoyance when the duel came to a close. The only one to show any true disappointment at Seto's victory had been Jounouchi.

Seto had also made sure to devote a large quantity of time to battling it out against his younger brother on the arcade games of his choice. The younger Kaiba had wasted no time in proving who was more skilled in that department.

By the time the Kaiba brothers left the arcade, the afternoon was already growing dark and the ride home was filled with Mokuba's good-natured prattle about anything and everything, although the boy's shrewd gray-blue eyes continuously darted towards the clumsily bandaged hand and the tell-tale smear of dried blood above his brother's eyebrow.

Seto, however, didn't notice his brother's stares. He was preoccupied by the warm brush of metal against his skin. The Rod had been tucked carefully into the waist band of his pants, hidden beneath both his shirt and coat. Throughout the day he had felt his thoughts drift stubbornly back to it and what Yuugi had said.

The Rod had chosen him - but for what?

Seto had never been naive enough to believe that anyone (or any _thing_) did anything without a motive.

The blinding headache that had occupied his mind earlier was beginning to return and he found the faint smile on his lips dwindling away. He knew that whatever it was that had managed to churn up his memories wasn't gone and he had an ominous feeling that his life wasn't ever going to be quite the same.

A side-long glance in his younger brother's direction caused him to let out an uncharacteristic sigh.

Seto couldn't help but think that this was only the beginning of the mess.

* * *

**Footnotes:  
1.** Quoted from Caius Cassius in Shakespeare's 'Julius Caesar'.  
**2.** The Sennen Items were created from blood – therefore blood would be a logical way of replenishing their powers.  
**3.** ..Really, take a guess.  
**4.** Yes, those giant foam hands. They seem to have taken over every sport known to man – I half expect to see them at televised lawn-bowls events...

* * *

**AN:** Anybody who has taken to re-reading these earlier chapters may suddenly be noticing that, wait, this chapter seems suddenly rather different than you may remember it being. We call it the revision process, my friends, and it's _started_. That doesn't mean that future chapters are on hold, this is more a soothing side project to the chapter writing. If the mood strikes me there might even be a few new scenes shafted into these earlier chapters.. So, enjoy.

* * *

"We all drank of the Snapple."


	4. Reflections

**Summary**: When a politically charged Magical world in turmoil suddenly becomes his problem, Kaiba finds that not all fairytales are just stories and sometimes, in the absence of a hero, even a reluctant Anti-Hero will do. HPYGO  
**Warnings**: May contain traces of minor-Shounen Ai, a good dash of nasty language and a side-serving of occasional death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Three-**  
Reflections.

-_Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus_-

* * *

There were three things in the world that Seto Kaiba hated more then anything else. 

The first was Jounouchi Katsuya – that was pretty much self explanatory.

The second was the disturbance of his every day life.This particular hatred had originated from violent experiences with kidnapping, soul-stealing and crushing defeats at the hands of certain midgets with ridiculous hair-styles.

The third was asking for help.

The third was thankfully something of an unheard of occurrence in the life of Seto Kaiba. This was partly due to a magnificent network of resources at the beck and call of the young business mogul and largely to the insurmountable bulk of his equally magnificent ego.

Unfortunately for Seto, he was about to deal with two out of three of his least favourite things in the world, simultaneously, and it was full credit to Yuugi Mutou. (**1**)

A scowl heated the the sidewalk as long fingertips brushed absentmindedly over the cool metal of the Sennen Rod that had forcibly become a part of his everyday wardrobe. The damned thing was like a boomerang. Jamming his hands further into his pockets the elder Kaiba let out an aggravated grunt and lifted his eyes to the store-front before him.

Seto _hated_ having to ask for help.

Shifting agitatedly against the polished chrome of the road-bike he had arrived on, Seto squinted through the bright morning glare at the numerous posters pasted to the display windows advertising local tournaments, cards, games and painted upon a peeling white sign over the window in bold black the kanji that proclaimed, "Kame Game Shop."

He had learned long ago to hate this place with a passion. It was an omen of all of the strange and unexplainable things in his life.

Since receiving the Sennen Rod from Yuugi Mutou little more then a week ago, he had been at constant war with the item.

In moments of paranoia Seto had suspected that someone was playing a very cruel joke on him. In moments of confusion he had suspected that the item had an iron will of it's own and would carry out it's agenda with or without Seto's help. In the increasingly rare moments of lucidity Seto blamed Yuugi Mutou.

The first day had been one of constant irritation - having locked the item in a seldom used filing cabinet (hopefully never to see the light of day again) only to find it sitting atop his desk when he arrived at work. The second day had been worse - it had been locked into firm obscurity in the hidden vault in his work office only to show up on his bedside table the next morning.. That had only been the beginning of the mess.

Lost time, dizzy spells, bizarre lapses into speaking a _very_ long dead language and then there had been the mortifying experience at that board meeting that still brought Mokuba to tears of laughter every time he looked at him.

His body felt like the centre of a war-zone and Seto had finally had enough. If he couldn't beat this damned item at it's own game he was going to play dirty.

The one thing that truly irked Seto Kaiba about the whole situation was that it was that infernal Rod that was the cause of all of the strife and the Rod was inevitably the solid chain link that connected him to Mutou.

He scowled in the direction of the pocket that housed the golden Rod and shifted against the bike again. He hadn't quite swallowed enough pride to walk into the game shop yet. (**2**)

With a cold glare directed at the shoppers who were beginning to cast inquiring looks in his direction he felt the corner of his lips dig deeper and drummed his fingers against the warm metal surface.

He had also discovered that Yuugi Mutou's paranoia was not unfounded, they were being followed. This wasn't a particularly new issue for Seto, though it made the matter no less worrying. The Kaiba brothers didn't have a particularly good track record when it came to being kidnapped.

Seto Kaiba didn't like to admit to weakness, whether it be in his business, his character or in his health but the situation with the Sennen Rod was completely alien to him. How did one deal with visions of one's past life as an Ancient Egyptian Priest? How did one fight off the strange urge to suddenly pray for Ra's safe journey through the night before they went to bed?

Seto knew that there was something more to the equation that he wasn't quite getting. He could feel the Rod's influence increasing daily over him, he had assumed that it was gaining power the longer that it stayed with him and found himself more inclined to strange habits that seemed to be beyond his control.

It had been infrequent at first, the odd blessing had escaped his lips when he sat down to a meal, a casual goodnight would roll off his tongue when he looked in on Mokuba before he ventured to bed. But as the week had gone by the phrases had become more frequent and he had found himself walking the Mansion's grounds in the middle of the night half-naked and with no knowledge of ever having left his bed.

It was, to be honest, getting a bit irritating. (**3**)

Plus, there was that one question that had been hanging over his thoughts since he had first laid hands on the rod (a sure sign that something in the rational part of his brain had slipped) was there a deranged ancient spirit nesting inside his mind?

To say the least Seto Kaiba had a few questions he needed to ask if he was going to squash this absurdity for good and, much to his chagrin, the likeliest source of the information he needed was Yuugi Mutou.

With a renewed sense of why he was about to put himself through the indignity of asking his arch-rival for help, Seto stood straight and faced the doorway to the Game Shop with a determined clench of his jaw. Removing his hands from his pockets he strode purposefully towards the doorway and pulled it open before he could think any better of it.

The bells jangled merrily over his head as he strode through the doorway and the door shut with a click behind him. Blue eyes roamed over the dimly lit shop in a brief flash of curiosity before coming to rest on the unmoving figure that was slumped over the counter. His breath hitched ominously as his boots clunked across the linoleum at a slightly less leisurely pace than he was known for.

Upon closer inspection the elderly grandfather of Yuugi Mutou was found to be breathing and, to Seto's disgust, seemingly taking a nap.

Seto allowed his lip to curl into a sneer, that was _no_ way to run a business.

With a quick scan of the shop he found that there was no one else in the store and Seto fought back a loud scoff, it was lucky they hadn't been cleared out by the opportunistic punks that slunk around the shopping district.

With a closer inspection of the counter he found a small buzzer resting pleasantly beside the cash register next to a handwritten sign declaring, '_Please Ring for Assistance,_' complete with an obnoxious smiley face. Satisfied with having found a way out of having to wake up the elderly man personally Seto jabbed a finger at the button, sparing a glare for the smiley face that presided over it.

A muffled buzzing from somewhere above his head alerted Seto that the buzzer was connected to the apartment above the shop. Leaning against the counter at a safe distance from the old man, Seto waited and listened, soon hearing the thump of footsteps and a door creak open.

A soft voice rose over the silence of the store, "'Jii-san? Are you out there?"

Hurried footsteps met Seto's ears and he turned his head to follow the path of a door opening and the absurd head of spikes that emerged from the opening. Seto watched unflinchingly as his rival ventured down the stairs and into the shop before catching sight of him.

Yuugi blinked once, then again, making no show of hiding his confusion before catching sight of his grandfather slumped over the counter. Colour deserted the King of Games' face as he made a beeline for the unmoving form.

Catching his rivals wave of thought, Seto intoned with decided disinterest, "He's sleeping."

Yuugi was already at the counter and having assured himself of his grandfather's health turned his attention towards Seto. "What are you doing here, Kaiba-kun?"

Seto revealed nothing of his decidedly frazzled state of mind in his deadpan reply, "I should think that was obvious,Yuugi."

The smaller youth's cheeks regained colour as fast as it had earlier disappeared and he ducked his head in the pretence of focusing upon his grandfather who let out a particularly loud snore for the attention. Yuugi reached out a hand to gently push at his grandfather's shoulder, the accompanying yell was significantly _less _gentle.

"Wake up 'jii-san!"

The elderly man jerked in his seat and cast a wide-eyed stare around the shop with a sleepy garble of, "wazzama'er?"

Yuugi chuckled quietly to himself and Seto merely raised an eyebrow, his lips twisted into an oddly amused thin line.

"You were sleeping," Yuugi commented.

A teasing smile fell into place on his lips when his grandfather's cheeks burned a similar shade of pink as his own.

"Nonsense Yuugi." Sugoroku grunted with an evasive glance before his eyes came to rest on Seto with surprise.

Seto Kaiba's stony expression never gave an inch, ignoring the frown that crossed the older man's face. Yuugi hid a smile and rolled his eyes at the less then welcoming stare his grandfather bestowed on his rival.

"Hey Yuug', what's the hold up?" came a sing-song voice from the doorway before an all-too-familiar head of golden hair burst through it.

It was, Seto thought as his carefully moulded expression came close to dissolving, the perfect addition to his day from Hell. Like ducks in a row his three least favourite things in the world were lining up - if only he had the accompanying air-rifle.

Jounouchi saw him and stiffened. His cheerful face hardened and honey-brown eyes kindled with fire.

"What are you doin' here, Kaiba?"

The fire in Jounouchi's eyes contrasted violently with the frost that stuck to his voice as he advanced across the shop towards the elder Kaiba brother, an accusing finger stabbing through the air in Seto's general direction.

Seto felt his lip curl of it's own accord as he sneered with no small amount of sarcasm, "I followed the yellow brick road."

Yuugi let out a low moan of exasperation and raised a hand sharply as Jounouchi's growl of, "What is _that _supposed to mean?" ground through the air.

Yuugi shook his head with a soft sigh and groaned out, "Jou – he's here on business."

Jounouchi uttered something that Seto couldn't quite decipher and shot a venomous stare in the elder Kaiba's direction before turning and stomping off up the staircase. Yuugi grumbled irritably beneath his breath before gesturing for Seto to follow him and retracing Jounouchi's footsteps up the staircase.

Seto steeled himself and followed suit.

He had only wanted to get the answers to his questions (preferably in the cliff-notes edition) and get the hell out of Dodge. Now it seemed that he would have to put up with Jounouchi Katsuya and any number of members of Yuugi's little friendship club.

Frustrated, Seto didn't take much notice of where he was going until he found himself ensconced in a cozy living area. Strewn with mismatched furniture in varying states of wear and a large television screen hooked up to various game-consoles, Seto thought it looked exactly like a place the teenaged King of Games would spend his time.

In short, it all seemed terribly foreign to Seto.

Jounouchi flopped down into an armchair and scowled out from beneath golden bangs in Seto's direction.His lips remained sealed, however, when Yuugi gestured for Seto to sit and when Seto pretended not to notice.

Seto didn't notice the extra face until a surprised grunt filled the air and his eyes darted towards where the other tall thuggish member of Yuugi's friends sat. Hiroto Honda watched him with a frank curiosity that made Seto itch to leave. The boy was more perceptive than most people gave him credit for and Seto was not so blind as to not remember that once upon a time both Jounouchi and Honda had been two of those opportunistic punks that hung around street corners in this part of town.

Seto had a strong feeling that Yuugi Mutou and his merry band of friends were not good for his blood pressure.

"I assume this is about.." Yuugi trailed off as he nestled himself into a chair and his large amethyst eyes shifted not-so-subtly between Honda and Jounouchi.

Irritation sparked and Seto removed the Sennen Rod from his pocket, twirling it absently through his fingers before dangling it in mid-air.

.. It wasn't as if the mutt and his friend didn't know about the Items anyway.

"Yes it's about _that_," he ground out with a piercing stare in the Rods direction.

Pointedly ignoring the wide-eyed stares that Jounouchi and Honda both planted on him, for the first time in his life Seto Kaiba literally jumped. A sudden glowing from Yuugi Mutou's chest had caught his attention and as he watched, he saw the boy _change_.

His mind was suddenly over-run with images of this Yuugi.

A shudder rolled through his spine and Seto raised a hand to press lightly against one of his temples as they began to throb ominously. He found the language archaic yet natural as the greeting rolled off his tongue without prompting, "_Per-Ra_."

Unwittingly Seto found himself delivering a sweeping bow that he certainly hadn't solicited. When he tried to put a stop to the strange behaviour, however, Seto found that he quite simply couldn't.

An element of panic began to race through Seto's mind as he tried to move his arm.

His physical body didn't move an inch.

_Don't panic._

Reduced to observing his bodies movements Seto could only snort at the suggestion that appeared unbidden in his mind. Like _hell _he wasn't going to panic.

What on earth was happening to him? (**4**)

He noticed the curious crimson stare on the other Yuugi's face and found himself continuously fighting to get some response from his body.

Nothing seemed to work for him and yet it was talking, moving against his will.

It was as if something had plucked the remote control from his hands and was now playing with the buttons while he watched in horror. His mind was starting race as time continued to pass. He had always hated being out of control of a situation. It was one of the very few things in the world that frightened him.

What you couldn't control was left up to chance and chance had never been particularly kind to the Kaiba brothers.

He tried to focus on what the other Yuugi was saying in an attempt to ground himself, yet what the 'Pharaoh' was saying wasn't making much sense either.

Unable to concentrate on the snippets of conversation that he caught Seto snarled suddenly, he had come to have his questions answered and he'd be damned if he'd be cheated out of it happening.

Seto forced himself into control, ignoring the odd sensation of slipping back into his own body and clenched his fists. He found himself panting with the strain that had been required and narrowed his eyes in the direction of the startled crimson stare.

"What," Seto snarled through gasping breaths, "Is happening to me?"

The other Yuugi took a step towards him, a line of concern appearing upon his brow, Jounouchi and Honda were frozen in place in their seats and were watching the scene with identical looks of confusion.

"Kaiba," the Pharaoh spoke up uncertainly stretching out a hand as though he thought to place it on Seto's shoulder.

Seto fought tooth and nail to maintain the fuzzy amount of control in his grasps and growled at the threatening pounding against his temples as it resurfaced.

Slowly the fight subsided and Seto was able to focus.

Ignoring the stares that followed his movements he straightened his spine and fixed his eyes on the sharp crimson eyes that were studying his face.

"What the hell is that thing doing to me?" he growled out in an attempt to mask the shaking that had overtaken his limbs.

He dropped the Rod from his fingers as though it were poisonous and allowed a shudder to roll through his shoulders. The metal hit the carpet with a soft thunk and omitted a faint glow in the natural light – he watched Yuugi's eyes flicker from himself to the Rod and then to some point over his shoulder.

Ignoring the curious stares he was receiving, Seto combed his fingers through his bangs, a warning sign that he was starting to get agitated. He heard faint murmurings from Jounouchi's direction but forced himself to block them out.

Seto knew he needed to get a semblance of control over himself before he could even consider speaking again. He hadn't planned to make a fool out of himself today.

Absorbing a deep breath he allowed himself to steady, ignoring the compelling urge to look behind him and instead focusing upon the Pharaoh's face.

The Pharaoh, however, was distracted.

Large crimson eyes were fixed on the strange collection of shadows that had begun to gather about his rival's feet. He watched with a vague amount of confusion as they swirled upward like smoke from a campfire into a humanistic form. Long slender limbs formed, assimilating colour and shape but somehow eluding the realm of tangibility.

Atemu felt his mind swill with recognition as the shadows dwindled into a translucent haze.

It was amazing how similar the High Priest and his reincarnation looked.

Seto's stare however remained on the Pharaoh, ignorant of the phenomena occurring behind him and instead choosing to focus on smoothing out his frayed nerves. To say he was startled when he felt arms encircle his waist was an understatement, the voice that tingled in his ear was so frustratingly _familiar_ that it made Seto's spine tingle.

Deep and dark and filled with sharp amusement that rumbled in his earlobe, "You're more stubborn than even I had thought possible, Omote."

Seto Kaiba's entire being seemed to tense as his back shot up rigid. His head swivelled painfully to stare incredulously at the person who had had the nerve to touch him. What he saw was startling enough to render his tongue still. This person, or whatever the hell it was, could have been his twin but beyond that, he was _familiar _in more than just appearance.

This was the High Priest that so many had tried to convince him he was the reincarnation of, and now faced with the proof in front of him, Seto Kaiba was unable to muster any arguments.

Though the spirit's hair was lighter and his eyes several shades darker there was no mistaking the striking similarities between the two of them. They were near identical in height with Seto having the advantage by a meager inch or so and the smug smile was an undoubted match. The spirit's eyelashes curled thickly around dark eyes, accenting the sharp angles that had been painted in with Kohl. The sharp ridges of his smile cast an illusionary shadow across his skin as he tilted his head to take in the stunned stare that he was receiving.

And he stared.

Seto's reverie did not last for long, however, as it was sharply interrupted by a loud groan.

Four sets of eyes shot sharply to the sole head of blond that had omitted the noise and a gloomy sigh escaped the boy.

"Brilliant,"Jou moaned with a pointed grimace in Seto's direction, "Now there's _two_ Kaibas ... Just what the world needed."

Seto's response seemed to be more of a reflex than a decisive action, "Doesn't the law require you to wear a muzzle in public?"

Jounouchi stiffened and Honda intuitively flung an arm out wildly to hold his friend in place, whether worried for Seto's safety or that of his friend few could have fathomed.

The exchange with Jounouchi served in one positive way in that it managed to ground Seto in a way that staring blankly at the spirit attached to him never would have. His eyes flickering back to his look-a-like's translucent form he found his eyebrows contracting violently and his eyes glinted sharply in the natural light.

"So," there was a certain amount of triumph in his words, "I was _right._"

The Spirit's amusement was evident, "I was under the impression that you were never wrong, omote."

"_You've _been nesting in my mind," Seto accused in a dangerously edged tone, pointedly ignoring the relative absurdity of such a statement in favour of basking in the revelation that he was certainly _not _losing his mind.

The Pharaoh couldn't help but feel that things didn't bode very well for the spirit of the High Priest.

The Spirit's dark eyes moved slowly towards his reincarnation as translucent arms dropped away from Seto's waist to rest at his sides.

"Not precisely how I'd put it" he replied smoothly.

Seto was unimpressed. His arms crossed over his chest as he shot a calculating stare in the Spirit's direction before turning his head dismissively and addressing the Pharaoh instead. "I assume you knew about him?" he inquired with a raise of an eyebrow.

Atemu narrowed his eyes. "Not until around five minutes ago."

The Spirit didn't take kindly to being dismissed in such a fashion and stepped around his reincarnation to plant himself boldly in Seto's vision before addressing the Pharaoh himself.

It was Seto's turn to scowl.

Ignoring the sour expression on his Reincarnations face the Spirit instead chose to continue the conversation he had been having before he had been forced from control and inevitably pushed into facing his Seto Kaiba directly for the first time.

"I believe that you were just about to explain what you know about these people who are following us, weren't you Cousin?"

* * *

Seto left the Kame Game Shop late in the afternoon with his head buzzing with information. 

The Pharaoh had cautioned them that their pursuers seemed to possess a magic of their own, something that was apparently both alarming and insightful. Seto wasn't entirely sure, while he was overly familiar with the finer details of stalkers he hadn't had a large amount of experience with the magical variety, at least, not to his knowledge.

The Pharaoh had also advised them that they were probably interested in the Sennen Items so it would be wise to keep them close at hand.

The spirit of the Rod had seemed affronted that the Pharaoh had even had to mention it, though that may have had something to do with the fact that Seto had been considering tossing the Rod into a dumpster at the time.

Seto had, after some prompting, taken surprisingly well to the fact that he was sharing his body with another spirit, though whether it was acceptance or simply the first stages of denial neither were entirely sure.

In an attempt to spur a reaction from him Jounouchi had commented that it was like having a leech attached to you for the rest of your life. Seto had scathingly replied that he would much prefer a leech to a slobbering mutt and his accompanying flea circus.

Jounouchi had kept decidedly quiet for the remainder of Seto's stay.

As Seto swung a leg absently over his road-bike and kicked the engine to life he cast one last look at the Kame Game Shop, seeing the curtains in the upstairs apartment fall back into place as whoever had been watching him pulled back hurriedly. Seto rolled his eyes as he slid his helmet into place before pulling out onto the road. The wind buffeted passed as he picked up speed down the busy streets and he savoured the taste of freedom that it brought with it.

He could feel the presence of the strange spirit peering curiously out through his eyes before he felt ghostly arms curl around his waist.

A sense of satisfaction had filled Seto's chest since he had discovered the existence of the spirit of the Rod. It had answered the many questions that had been ricocheting around his mind for the past week and left only satisfaction in it's wake.

After all – if _Yuugi _could deal with having an aggravating spirit sharing his body, surely it couldn't be that hard.

Could it?

* * *

**Footnotes:  
1**. An iconic phrase in New Zealand Sporting History born of our ever graceful winner, Sean Fitzpatrick.  
**2.** You can understand the delay, there's a lot of it to digest.  
**3**. Oh _yeah_, is the Spirit of the Rod is messin' with him.  
**4**. Say it with me now, Con-Trol Fah-Reak. Additional capitalisation optional.

* * *

**AN**: What's that Lassie? There's editing afoot? Thatta boy.

* * *

"_What's tater's precious? What's taters?_"


	5. Rewind

**Summary**: When a politically charged Magical world in turmoil suddenly becomes his problem, Kaiba finds that not all fairytales are just stories and sometimes, in the absence of a hero, even a reluctant Anti-Hero will do. HPYGO  
**Warnings**: May contain traces of minor-Shounen Ai, a good dash of nasty language and a side-serving of occasional death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Four-**  
Rewind

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_Seto Kaiba detested mornings.

From the very moment he set foot out of the warmth of his covers Seto simply knew that this day was going to be different – and not in a good way.

Showering, dressing and stumbling down to the kitchen seemed like a blur to his sleep-infected mind and by the time he had managed to seat himself at the kitchen table with the whirring of the coffee machine in his ears he had noticed two things:

One being that the buttons on his shirt didn't match up. The second was that a pair of painfully observant dark eyes were studying him from across the breakfast table.

Seto hastily fixed his wardrobe error by re-buttoning his shirt and rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to fix the second problem. The 'problem' however didn't seem to want to go away, instead an amused smirk curled upon it's face.

With his brain refusing to deal with the problem in a period of such intense caffeine-deprivation Seto turned his attention to watching the coffee machine work its magic. Soon enough the aromatic smell had infused with his nostrils and sufficiently awakened his brain into being able to fathom what exactly the thing was that was sitting across the table from him.

Fuzzy memories of the day previous floated lazily through his mind and Seto grimaced as he studied the translucent face in front of him. Much to his annoyance the Spirit of the Rod didn't seem the least bit phased by the early hour of the morning and looked perfectly awake. Much _too_ awake for Seto's liking.

"I take it you aren't a morning person then?" the Spirit commented.

Seto cast a dark look in the spirits direction as he stood and rummaged into the back of the cupboard for his mug.

"If you hate getting up so early, why do you do it?"

Seto rolled his eyes involuntarily and felt his eyebrow twitch as he slammed his mug down on the bench and reached for the coffee machine. He wondered precisely how long you could carry out a conversation without any input from another person. He guessed he was about to find out.

Smirking to himself as he poured the scalding hot dark liquid into his mug Seto felt his mood began to lift. He had long ago concluded that there was one true magic that existed and that was the miracle that was coffee.

He could almost feel the Spirits irritation radiating from where he leaned against the bench. Ignoring the imploring stare that rested on the back of his head Seto blew across the top of the dark liquid to cool it down before taking an experimental sip. He hissed at the extreme heat and winced as his scalded tongue went oddly numb. (**1**)

"You _do_ realize you're going to have to acknowledge my presence at some point, omote."

Seto felt his lips twist in spite of the minor setback with his burnt tongue, thinking almost cheerfully to himself, 'We'll see about that'.

Seto let out another hiss of pain as for the second time in as many minutes a part of his body felt the effects of sudden extreme heat when the Rod suddenly scalded white hot through his shirt pocket. His hand jerked and his mug slipped from his hand. The mug shattered upon impact with the floorboards splattering scalding hot coffee up his trouser legs.

Whirling around Seto glared at the Spirit who was watching him with undisguised amusement shining in his eyes.

"I heard that."

Seto grimaced and glared irritably down at his broken coffee mug in annoyance.

"I liked that mug."

The spirit raised an eyebrow, head angling to observe his reincarnation with a hint of curiosity staining his eyes. "Then I guess you won't be trying to ignore me again," he replied with an easy smile.

With a surly look in the spirit's direction Seto stepped over the spreading coffee and shards of broken porcelain and reached for another mug. He wasn't quite awake enough to deal with cleaning up messes yet.

" - And I would appreciate it if you would stop referring to me as a _thing_, my name is Set."

Seto had the strangest desire to mutter, 'well, bully for you' in response but merely bit his burnt tongue and decided to oblige the Spirit. There was no point in antagonizing him before he'd had at least one cup of coffee.

Pouring himself another coffee Seto stepped back over the mess of broken porcelain and rapidly cooling black coffee and took his previous seat at the kitchen table. Dark eyes studied him as he took a sip from his mug and lifted his eyes to inspect the spirit or rather, Set.

Their attire was identical. The same deep blue button down shirt, that same slick black nylon pants and same distinctly punk-inspired boots that gleamed with silver buckles. He noticed with a faint trace of annoyance that Set's attire was not splattered with slowly drying coffee stains. The dopple-ganger smiled a wicked smile in response and lounged back in his chair.

Seto soon decided that it was his turn to ask a few questions and inhaled another sip of his coffee before turning a serious stare on the spirit.

"What's your purpose here?"

Set seemed somewhat startled. Whether it was by the fact that Seto had actually acknowledged him and addressed him or by the question was unclear. Instead he raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'purpose'?" he offered sharply, watching as Seto downed another sip of his coffee.

"I mean why did you show up? What's your purpose here... That is what you lot buy into isn't it? Destiny and prophecies and all that other smoke and mirrors nonsense."

Set rested a decidedly cool gaze on Seto and stated smoothly, dronefully, "My purpose is to assist the Pharaoh"

Not in the least bit surprised that the sentence made sense to him Seto merely stared at the spirit, less than enthused at the decidedly un-enlightening response. This seemed to be a prompt for Set to tack on a somewhat unenthusiastic, " - And, of course, to help you my dear host."

Seto chose to ignore the sarcasm that stung the tailing end of the Spirits comment and downed the last of his coffee. "What makes you think I need your help?"

"Because, despite what you may think, you're a lot more useful to the world alive then you are dead."

Seto nodded his head slowly.

He had the distinct feeling that it was going to be a very, very long day.

* * *

Seto had decided promptly, after receiving several odd glances from Mokuba and a failed attempt at sitting down to do some paperwork, that he needed some fresh air. 

A walk in Domino Park, while not being an incredibly appealing idea, was where he found himself inevitably heading as it was likely to be scarcely populated so early in the morning.

The Sennen Rod had found a home tucked into the back of a pair of coffee-free black pants and Seto had been free to walk aimlessly through the Park. Something he had been doing for quite some time it seemed as he glanced at his watch.

It had taken Seto a while to realize he could talk to Set without speaking aloud. Needless to say the first ten minutes had been filled with bewildered stares from some early-morning fitness enthusiasts – Set had been particularly amused when one of the joggers had stopped to ask if Seto was alright.

Seto had snarled back boldly, "Are you trying to get fit or are you just having one?"(**2**)

Set had come to the conclusion that he could grow to quite like his reincarnation.

Eventually Seto had come to a rest at the base of a large tree that was far enough away from the path to be secluded but not so far away that the puffing breaths of the out-of-shape couldn't be heard every so often. Leaning against the tree Seto voiced the question that had been forming in his mind ever since Set had made himself known to him.

"If you were trapped inside of the Rod than why didn't you escape and possess that lunatic Ishtar?"

Set had scowled at this question as though the answer should have been obvious and rolled his eyes, lazing back against the grass and casting an imperious glance in Seto's direction.

"You were chosen to own the Rod _long_ before Malik took it. I couldn't have existed in his body even if I had wanted to, you were the chosen host. I doubt he even knew my spirit existed in the Rod, he was suspicious when I activated it's power during your duels. But he never really knew."

Seto inclined his head before allowing it to droop back against the tree trunk. It appeared that that Ishtar woman hadn't been as batty as he had initially thought.

Meanwhile the spirit took the time to study his reincarnation. He was interesting to say the least. Seto Kaiba was _basically_ an arrogant prick who stepped on anyone who happened to be in his path – an extremely sharp-tongued prick none-the-less. It was an attitude that didn't win the elder Kaiba many friends, but it had certainly earned him respect and Set was certainly pleased with the situation.

At least his host had some attitude.

Set smirked faintly to himself as he lounged back onto the grass and lifted his eyes towards the late-summer sky.

He may not have been Pharaoh but at least he wasn't stuck with a dwarf for a reincarnation.

* * *

Time had filtered away into Midday before Seto decided to leave the Park. Groups of teenagers and families had begun to drift into the spacious areas intent on soccer games and picnics. 

Seto was preoccupied as he strode down the pathway and so was more than startled when the persistent sound of his name being called suddenly registered in his mind. Pausing, Seto turned his head to watch as Yuugi Mutou jogged towards him.

In the distance Seto caught sight of Jounouchi and Honda kicking a soccer ball while the white-haired Bakura chatted with the loud-mouthed Otogi and Anzu in the shade of a tree. Seto felt his body stiffen with distaste but hastily stemmed the reaction when he caught sight of a familiar raven tangle racing after a way-ward kick of the soccer-ball from Jounouchi. Mokuba.

He'd forgotten his brother had said he was going to do something with Yuugi and his friends today.

"Kaiba-kun!" Yuugi exclaimed as he caught up to Seto panting something terrible.

Seto felt his lips tug upward with amusement. Yuugi had never been much of an athlete.

"Do you want to join us?"

Seto raised an eyebrow and turned his eyes towards his rival's large amethyst eyes which were shining hopefully. He also felt the nudge in his side that indicated Set had some reason for wanting to go.

With a nonchalant shrug he followed Yuugi back towards where the group was congregated, he noticed that his rival's large eyes never left his face. "Why were you here today Kaiba-kun? Mokuba said that he thought you'd gone to work."

Turning his own eyes ahead of him Seto kept his reply simple, "I had some things I needed to discuss."

He felt the Rod grow warm against his back and realized Set was preparing to come out of the Rod.

Yuugi nodded his head slowly and glanced back ahead of them, he blinked as he noticed the soccer ball that was suddenly rocketing toward them at an alarming pace. The overwhelming urge to duck and throw his hands over his head filled him and he fought to choke it back as Seto noticed the ball as well. (**3**)

To Yuugi's surprise Seto stopped the ball neatly with his knee and booted it back in the direction it had come from – surprising a yelp out of Jounouchi who had been chasing it.

The blond, some ten meters away from them, turned red as he stepped out of the way of the ball and let out a splutter of, "_Kaiba_!"

Seto found a smirk falling into place with dependable ease as he replied when they came into hearing distance. "You would think," he began, eyes glittering with malice, "That you might be able to control you're overwhelming joy at my presence, mutt. It's almost embarrassing how you're so desperate for my attention that every time I'm in your presence you can't help but scream my name..."

Seto heard Yuugi splutter at his side and watched as Jounouchi's face burnt scarlet. "I -" the blond began, his face continuing to travel through all the known hues of red before he let out a strangled yell and simply dove for the elder Kaiba.

Seto took a preventative step out of the blond's warpath, watching with faint satisfaction as Jounouchi made an imprint in the grass.

It seemed that their display had caught the attention of the other members of the group and now Mokuba was racing towards the trio with a wide smile on his face. Honda wasn't far behind as he jogged towards them, obviously intent on preventing Jounouchi from embarrassing himself in a public place.

"'Nii-sama!" Mokuba chirped out cheerfully as he arrived, the soccer ball was tucked under one arm and he grinned up at his brother.

"Are you going to stay? Please, you haven't played soccer with me in ages!"

Unable to resist a half-smile at the expectant gleam in the younger Kaiba's eyes Seto raised an eyebrow. "I might hang around for a while," he replied indifferently.

Yuugi found himself smirking behind his hands as Mokuba grinned in triumph, uttering an inaudible sing-song, "yatta!" under his breath.

Seto pretended not to have noticed.

Jounouchi had in the meantime scrambled to his feet and was now glaring daggers in Seto's direction. Mokuba turned his eyes suspiciously from Jounouchi to Seto and frowned in his brothers direction, "I thought you said you weren't going to waste your time insulting Jou anymore?" he inquired with a supsicious stare.

Jounouchi's lips curled into a teasing smile which he flaunted openly at Seto.

Seto raised an eyebrow and retorted in a silky tone, "Sorry mutt. I'll have to insult you another day – its 'Be Kind to Animals' week."

Jounouchi let out an angered growl and went to dive at the elder Kaiba again. Honda, pleased that he had been right in assuming Jounouchi would try to jump Kaiba again, chose that moment to snag him by the back of the shirt.

"Seto!" Mokuba yelled in exasperation casting an glare in his brothers direction.

Seto shook his head irritably before snorting aloud. "Fine. Like I would waste my time."

Seto ignored the amused snickering that Set allowed to float through his mind.

Mokuba grinned a triumphant grin and snagged his brother by the arm.

"C'mon Seto – you can play soccer with us..."

Honda patted Jounouchi consolingly on the shoulder and gave a faint smile.

"Look on the bright side, Jou. You can pretend the soccer ball's Kaiba's head." (**4**)

* * *

The sun had become steadily stronger over the afternoon and by one o'clock it had driven Seto and everyone else under the shade of the trees. 

Yuugi's group of friends were spread out across the shade talking amongst each other drowsily. Seto had chosen to sit by himself and was leaning with his back against the tree.

It didn't take long for Yuugi to notice when Seto's behaviour abruptly changed and it took even less time to determine what the cause of the change was. Yuugi excused himself with a slight frown as he moved towards the tree that Seto was seated under and blinked when control was suddenly seized from him and the Pharaoh took over.

When Set noticed the Pharaoh's approach and turned an amused expression towards him it was when Atemu was struck with the strongest surge of memories he'd had in a long time. Seto's colossal blue eyes were several shades darker then he'd become accustomed to and his hair was more inclined to a slick caramel in the light.

Atemu felt an unbidden shiver roll through his spine as his adversary rolled dark eyes lazily to rest upon him. His smirk carved a dark shadow into his face as he let out a laugh – a great deal unlike one that the Kaiba he knew would use.

"What's the matter cousin dear, aren't you pleased to see me?"

Atemu felt Yuugi's confusion radiating through his mind and grimaced at the spirit who had taken possession of Kaiba's body.

"I have to say Pharaoh, I think I got a much better deal in the host department..."

Set's amused eyes lingered on the affronted King of Games as he narrowed his eyes and took several steps forward. The pair were beginning to attract the attention of the others and Mokuba was starting to look more then suspicious, Atemu let out a soft groan as the boy began to stride towards his brother.

"What's going on?" the younger Kaiba spoke up with a narrowed stare as he looked first from Set and then back to Atemu.

Set's smile began to widen dramatically as he shifted his stare onto Mokuba and raised an eyebrow elegantly. "Me and my cousin here were just discussing the better qualities of your brother," he replied with a drawl.

Set was bombarded with a flood of dire warnings from Seto that went unheeded.

Mokuba turned confused eyes from Set towards Atemu, obviously searching for some kind of answer before he spoke up again with a frown. "What are you talking about 'nii-sama? Yuugi isn't our cousin..."

"Mokuba," Atemu intervened, giving a sharp glare in the direction of the smirking Set.

Mokuba didn't appear to be taking any notice however as he was suddenly eying Set with suspicion before he took a few steps back and let out a snarl of, "You aren't my brother! What did you do to Seto?"

Slowly but surely the remainder of the groups focus was turning towards the trio.

Set chuckled and raised an eyebrow elegantly, "Your brother is perfectly fine. I just needed a... chat with the Pharaoh."

Mokuba's eyes were travelling so quickly between the pair that they seemed almost a blur. Frustrated at the fact that there was something else obviously going on that he didn't know about he let loose an accusing yell of, "Who are you?"

The eyes that rested on him were much like his older brothers and yet.. not. They were darker.

"I don't believe we've officially met, have we Mokuba?" Set declared with amusement.

He rose gracefully to his feet and strode the few steps between the tree and Mokuba before crouching down in front of the younger Kaiba with an amused smile. "I am Set."

There was a loud gasp from behind them that caused both Mokuba and Set to turn their eyes towards the suddenly wide-eyed Anzu. "He – he's..." she murmured out and turned her eyes for confirmation towards Atemu who gave a small nod of his head.

Set smirked graciously and turned his head back towards the confused Mokuba who was now staring imploringly at Anzu awaiting the rest of her sentence. "I am cousin to the Pharaoh, the High Priest" he elaborated.

Mokuba turned his eyes from Set towards Atemu and his eyes widened in realisation. He gasped and suddenly let out a laugh, followed by a grin that was nearly as smug as any smirk that his older brother could have produced. "I knew it! I knew Yuugi and that Isis lady weren't lying."

He clapped his hands together with glee and ignored the confused stare that had replaced the amused one upon Set's face. Set had turned his head towards Atemu and appeared to be trying to question him with a mere look, something that didn't appear to be working very well.

"So thats why 'Nii-sama was talking to himself."

Atemu face-faulted as he stared at the younger Kaiba.

Set himself seemed somewhat confused by the younger boy's reaction and had begun to mutter to himself uneasily as he straightened. The loud groan that escaped from beneath a tree, coincidently located conveniently close to the food, didn't go unnoticed.

Stifled snickering erupted from the patch of shade that housed the mild-mannered Bakura Ryou and the outrageous Otogi Ryuuji.

Set shot a narrowed stare in the direction of the blond and felt an eyebrow twitch. He was beginning to understand why his reincarnation had such a dislike for the boy.

Atemu grimaced and began to rub his forehead with one hand – it was almost ridiculous how alike Set and the Kaiba he knew were. Ridiculous and frustrating.

This was just one more reminder of everything that had begun to stir up lately. The disturbances he had felt in the shadow realm, the uneasiness that Yuugi had begun to feel and the knowledge that something or someone was following him. Now that Set making regular appearances it was as if the past was once again threatening to upset the future. Atemu frowned, speaking of the past...

Crimson eyes shot over his shoulder to rest upon the distinctly wilder head of white-hair that was perched sloppily in the shade next to Otogi. The glittering rusty eyes of the Tomb Robber met his with amusement and a sarcastic wave was readily attached. Atemu felt his head begin to pound ominously – today was definitely not his day. (**5**)

As he watched the Tomb Robber slid gracefully to his feet and sauntered forwards, watched by a now confused Otogi and a vast majority of the groups eyes. He stopped some half-meter in front of Set and leaned backwards as though to inspect the Priest more closely.

The Tomb Robber's smile gleamed like a sharpened blade as he craned his head upwards to meet the guarded stare of the Priest with amusement.

"- And here I was thinking that you were never going to show your face around here Priest" he finally spoke after a stretch of uncomfortable silence, mockery practically salivating from his lips.

Blood red eyes gleamed eerily in the light as he raised an eyebrow.

"What took you so long?"

* * *

Seto glanced with a frown towards Mokuba as he walked down the winding path that cut through the middle of Domino Park. 

Mokuba grinned back at him smugly.

"Don't even start," was the sharp warning as they passed through a glade of trees.

Mokuba blinked all-too-innocently up at him. "I don't know what you mean Seto" he retorted casually and skipped a step as they passed deeper into the trees.

Seto looked away from his brother the annoyance that he felt at the Spirit within him rising even further. He had worked very hard to keep the presence of the Sennen Rod and it's Spirit from his younger brother and Set had blown that in the space of one afternoon.

Seto _knew _the dangers that stalked anyone who possessed the cursed Items, despite his continued denial of the items being anything other than decorative he had _always _known that they were trouble. He had decided to keep the Rod a secret for that reason alone, Mokuba already attracted enough trouble just by being who he was - if he knew about the damned items as well they may as well just paint a target on the back of his head.

Glancing around the pathway with a frown., Seto had the strangest feeling that whatever it was that had been following him lately was here somewhere. He shifted closer to Mokuba instinctively.

The Sennen Rod grew warm against his back and he shivered unconsciously – he supposed it would take a while for him to get used to it doing that. 'There's something here,' the Spirit alerted him abruptly and Seto seized hold of his brothers shoulder. He couldn't be too careful.

"Seto what's wrong?" Mokuba demanded as he turned his eyes sharply toward his elder brothers face.

"Not now Mokuba," Seto whispered back rather more harshly then he'd intended.

They rounded a bend in the path and nearly collided with another man.

Seto barely glimpsed a curtain of greasy dark hair and a prominent nose before a voice commanded urgently, "Quickly – grab hold of this. Both of you."

Seto's mind didn't have time to comprehend as a lumpy object was shoved into his hands and the strange man seized his brothers hand and held it there.

Seto Kaiba barely registered the strong tug behind his navel.. That was until the ground dissolved from under him. (**6**)

Seto had known from the moment he woke up that his day was going to be different – and it certainly wasn't in a good way.

* * *

**Footnotes:**  
**1**. I always burn my tongue.. Just thought I'd add that.  
**2**. I've always wanted to say that to those damned joggers anyone whose that enthusiastic in the mornings should be fined...  
**3**. I used to do that when I was a little kid – needless to say I wasn't the most co-ordinated person.  
**4**. I realized suddenly that though Honda has been in two scenes already, he hasn't said a single word...  
**5**. Yes. I do enjoy making Atemu suffer.. and the idea of Bakura waving at anyone gives me the giggles.  
**6**. Brownie points for the smart cookie who can tell me what just happened.

* * *

**AN**: Fe, fi, fo, fum, I smell the product of some editing-done.

* * *

"_That's the second biggest monkey head I've ever seen!_"


	6. Lock and Key

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Five-  
**Lock and Key.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

When the spinning ground jerked up to meet his feet, Seto barely had the presence of mind to throw his arms out before he met the pavement up close and personal. The impact was numbing, painful and confusing. His arm was trapped awkwardly beneath the weight of a moaning twelve year old and a bicycle tire and the morning air was punctuated by the gabbling of Starlings as they were startled into flight.

Now, Seto was, by and large, a rational man. Logic was his compass and on the rare occasion that it failed him denial had always been a good alternative. It was difficult, however, to deny that in the course of a few stomach-churning moments he had somehow been transported to an utterly foreign location in, what appeared to be, an entirely different time zone.

All ideas of _rational_ thought were abruptly scattered to the wind when Seto found himself sprawled upon the pavement, panicked discourse snapping through his head and a stranger staring imperiously down at them with the general air of someone that had been enormously inconvenienced. Quite understandably, Seto was suddenly a bit _angry. _

_Kidnapping!_ his mind bellowed with enough volume to offend the dull throbbing that had already taken residence in his skull_, _followed in quick succession by an equally loud,_ Drugged! _

And yes, at heart Seto considered himself a rational man but he was also, to his undying advantage, an _unpredictable_ man which explained what he did next.

In a single movement he had gained his feet in so far as to throw himself at the man who had been sneering down his nose at them, driving him ruthlessly backwards into the pavement. Instinctively, the Rod was curled between his fingers and a long blade slid neatly from the handle coming to a delicate rest against the pallid skin of the stranger's throat.

The stranger lay perfectly still, dazed fear vivid in his strange black eyes as Seto crouched over him, his face the very picture of highly contained anger, his voice clipped as he demanded, "Who the _hell_ are you?"

_

* * *

_Albus Dumbledore's sparkling eyes were a stark contrast to the stormy glare that challenged them.

There were several, critical similarities between Seto Kaiba and Albus Dumbledore but, as always, it was the differences that defined them.

For one thing, Dumbledore had never held a blade to the throat of a certain Potions Master, though there had been times when he may have felt inclined to. For another, he was not the cut-throat businessman that Seto was renowned for being (pun most certainly _intended_), though this did not make him any less dangerous than the boy in front of him. Rather, it made him distinctly the opposite.

Presently the most acute difference between them was the tendency that Dumbledore had to meander around the all important details.

Seto was not a patient man at the _best_ of times and today was not a good day.

Seto Kaiba did business in the same way he operated in times of crisis, bluntly, directly and with a minimal amount of smalltalk. He was a regular John McClane who got the job done and got the hell out. He did _not _sit around drinking tea with senile old men. (**1.**)

If there was one thing that came a close four on his list of most hated things, it was being kept in the dark.

His expression carefully neutral, Seto sat straight-backed in the squashy armchair he had been presented with and presented his best (and his best was nothing short of _exceptional_) professional gaze upon the old man. Dumbledore smiled benignly, seemingly amused by Seto's intent, and continued to suck on a sticky mess that he had declared to be a 'sherbet lemon' before he had offered one to Seto himself. It had been only one of the many things that Dumbledore had done to grate on Seto's nerves.

He was beginning to question his choice of humoring the old coot when he had introduced himself as the '_Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_'. That this declaration hadn't particularly startled him caused great concern on Seto's part. He was starting to think that his past experiences with Pegasus J. Crawford and that accursed Ishtar family had set his benchmark _far_ too high for what qualified as crazy.

Usually, by now, they'd gotten to the part where the average kidnapper expressed their desire for his millions, his company, his title or at _least_ a cutting-edge piece of technology in return for his freedom.

The fact that Dumbledore had yet to even _acknowledge_ that he'd just had Seto kidnapped, in broad daylight no less, was beginning to trouble him. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was something _wrong _about this particular case and that he _should_ be a lot more worried than he was currently feeling. As Dumbledore continued to ramble he was starting to wonder if he should at least _try_ to point him in the right direction.

Seto couldn't help but think that, once again, he had been mistaken for someone who actually cared. Not the kind of situation that Seto generally cared to be in as it led to all sorts of troubling consequences that included lengthy monologues of how simply _dreadful_ the weather had been lately and accounts of family holidays with chronologically ordered slides. Seto detested slides with a passion and he certainly didn't like talking about the weather.

He decided to remedy the situation as quickly as possible, after all, he had found that if one left it too late with these things the effects were irreversible. Such had been the case with Yuugi Mutou. The result of that disaster was on-going.

"How did you find the weather?"

Seto felt something within him long to curl up into the fetal position and whimper. If he didn't know any better he'd have thought the old geezer was doing it on purpose.

When he spoke, Seto endeavored to keep as calm as possible, fixing a firm stare upon the man in front of him and trying to ignore the swirls of magenta on his sweeping robes that appeared to be moving. "I don't _care_ about the weather or if your rickety knee is flaring up again. I want to know why you have brought my brother and I here, why your lunatic henchmen have been following me and what it is that you want from me."

Seto revelled in a brief moment of pride at his self-restraint as he felt Set observing the conversation with interest through his eyes. Set had been decidedly subdued since their arrival.

Dumbledore's piercing stare was sharp and focused when he returned his attention to the conversation, which Seto took to be a positive sign. He had dropped the harmless smile and benign air to survey him with calculating eyes. The kindly old man facade had been dropped to the side as easily as it had been summoned.

"I hear that you gave Severus quite the scare this morning," he spoke finally, the soft British accent lined with something a little bit stronger beneath, just a hint of steel.

"I don't take kindly to being kidnapped," Seto replied promptly, assessing the lined face before him with renewed interest.

_Something isn't right here,_ Set murmured through his mind_. _

Seto couldn't help but agree.

A sweeping eyebrow rose upward and long spindly fingers tapped together, keeping time to something Seto couldn't hear. When Dumbledore spoke it was with carefully measured curiosity, "You speak as if from experience, Mister Kaiba."

Seto stiffened in his chair, his voice strained as he replied, "Too _much_ experience." (**2.**)

They sat in silence as Dumbledore stared long and hard at Seto, as though he was determined to come to a conclusion about him. He was keenly aware of the sharp mind hidden behind the doddering old man act and the eccentric smiles, it was clear that there was considerably more to Albus Dumbledore than the average, scheming mastermind.

"I think it's time I told you why you are here, Mister Kaiba," was his eventual verdict.

_Here we go_.

The kindly old man of ten minutes ago seemed to have evaporated into thin air leaving Seto to wonder if that man was ever really there.

"As you are well aware, you, Mister Kaiba, possess a very unique, magical gift."

Seto scoffed, his disbelief breaking through the impassive position he had been trying to hold.

"The nature of this gift has raised some questions in our community. You must understand that these are dark times in our world, we are proceeding into the second stage of a terrible war against one of the most powerful dark wizards of our time. People are frightened and as does happen in times of panic, some rash decisions are being made."

Seto felt his scowl deepen as realization sunk in. '_He's completely insane._'

_'I wouldn't be so sure,'_ Set responded grimly.

"The Ministry of Magic have recently made some grievous errors of judgment and in their attempts to salvage the situation they have been somewhat overzealous in proving to the public that they are eliminating the threat to Wizarding kind."

Seto swore he could have seen a flash of sympathy in Dumbledore's eyes as they rested on him and he felt suspense squeezing his chest as he studied the man's face.

"I'm afraid that this is the part of the story where _you_ come into the picture, Mister Kaiba. You are amongst a small group of individuals that have been identified as potential threats. You are, of course, prime candidates for the Ministry's purposes; foreign, powerful and you were never academically trained. You are, I'm afraid, exactly the kind of distraction that the Ministry of Magic was hoping for." (**3**)

Seto felt the slow burn of anger that had been quietly rising inside him suddenly erupt. He was on his feet before he could attempt to check his temper, his every word clipped with anger, "Your _government_ intends to use us as scapegoats?"

Dumbledore was strangely calm in the face of Seto's volatile anger, even as he took a step towards him, radiating indignant fury. When he spoke he was utterly collected, "Yes. That is their plan."

"And you intend to stand by and let them, do you?" Seto spat back, his mouth curled in an ugly sneer. "Well you can go ahead and tell your _leader_ that I am not going to be his get out of jail free card. You have _no _idea who you're messing with."

The bewildered expression that broke across Dumbledore's face may have given Seto pause if he had seen it.

"I can assure you Mister Kaiba, that I am not party to this foolish scheme the Ministry have decided on," there was a trace of amusement on Dumbledore's face as he regarded Seto. "I will never condone the sacrifice of innocent lives to cover the foolish incompetence of a leader. Which brings me to the subject of why you are _here_."

Seto slowly returned to his seat, eyes fixed coldly upon the man in front of him as he was, once again, forced to reevaluate his opinion of him. Albus Dumbledore was a difficult man to figure out.

"You mentioned you were being followed over the past week?" Dumbledore prompted and Seto inclined his head.

"Severus is not the only wizard who has been following you. It is my understanding that you have been under the surveillance of a team of specially trained wizards, who we call Aurors, at the request of the Ministry. Their goal, we assume, was to gather sufficient evidence to justify an arrest."

Seto found his eyes narrowing, "And.. _Severus_, was it?"

Dumbledore's lips twitched. "I find myself in a position of needing to keep a close eye on the Ministry's actions. Severus was there at my bidding, he has informed me that the Aurors had planned to arrest you that night and so he believed that it was in the best interests of you and your brother to be removed from the situation entirely."

Seto met Dumbledore's eyes as though attempting to determine the truth of his words. The old man didn't so much as flinch.

"You have been offered the protection of this household, Mister Kaiba. In the eyes of the Ministry of Magic you are now a fugitive and in a considerable amount of danger should they find you. I'm afraid that you will not be able to return to your home for quite some time."

The slowly building foundation of understanding that Seto had begun to accept crumbled quite spectacularly in mere moments. "I have a company to run, a schedule to keep, I have Mokuba to look after and I must protect the Pharaoh-" he protested, trailing off once he realized exactly what he'd said.

He ignored the curious stare that rested upon him and narrowed his eyes, "I will _not_ stay here."

"I'm afraid, Mister Kaiba, that there is no other choice."

* * *

Seto was not pleased.

While informative, his meeting with Dumbledore had gotten him nowhere. He was stranded in a house of possibly hostile magic-wielding strangers, who had yet to convince him they weren't a cult, on the wrong side of the globe and if Dumbledore was to be believed, _that_ wasn't even the worst of it.

The fact that Seto didn't want to be there didn't matter, he sure as hell wasn't leaving.

After the exhausting debriefing with Dumbledore, who appeared to be the leader of the strange group who occupied the rickety old house, he was handed over to a rather motherly woman who had told him to call her Mrs Weasley.

Mrs Weasley was a plump woman with a pleasant smile and violently red hair. She had greeted Seto and Mokuba with a burst of motherly warmth that had left the two feeling distinctly awkward and left Seto with the impression that he couldn't stand too much of the woman. He had lost his own mother far too early in life to be comfortable with such easily given warmth.

Mrs Weasley had marched him from the study, where he had been ushered after the incident with Severus that morning, to his new room. To his relief Mokuba was waiting on one of the beds, the wide scowl on his face a very real indication that he had been as worried about Seto as Seto had been about him.

Mokuba was about as thrilled with staying in the gloomy old house as Seto himself was, though his major gripe seemed to be about being separated from his video games.

The last stop on Mrs Weasley's abridged tour of the house was the kitchen and dining area, which seemed to be the focal point of the house. They had been curtly ushered into seats and subjected to curious stares from various occupants of the house that were about as subtle as Yuugi's hair.

Among the group that had gathered to gawk had been a red-haired girl that Seto assumed to be Mrs Weasley's daughter, an older girl who looked to be in her early twenties and an eclectic mixture of people in their mid-fourties and beyond.

Seto was left wondering exactly what the house's purpose was. The group of people that gathered under it's roof were of eclectic races, surnames and appearances but all of them seemed mostly at ease with each other, that was, except for one.

When Severus Snape stalked into the kitchen, looking for all the world as if he'd rather be anywhere else, Seto was surprised to see that the group, which had seemed to have a mostly pleasant dynamic, suddenly reciprocated the feeling.

Severus Snape was not an amiable man. He had been possessed of a social awkwardness that few could match and even fewer could fathom since the ugly affair of his adolescence and many would say that he had never exactly recovered.

It was this awkwardness of being that had been so attractive to the bullies of his school years, because, _really_, what did the Sirius Blacks and James Potters of the world know about _not_ knowing what to say or feeling awkward in your own skin? It was an awkwardness that had pervaded into adulthood, niggling further inside to a resentful place of lost opportunities and bitter disappointments. It was really no wonder that Snape was not an amiable man.

But in spite of what life had had to throw at him, Snape, while not being a particularly likable or even tolerable human being, was essentially a _good_ one. It was a marginal call on occasions. That resilient sliver of goodness often hid behind the despicable acts he had committed in his youth and in more recent times to the extent that Severus himself sometimes forgot it was there.

This was perhaps why Severus was always so surprised when he _did_ do the right thing, although he thought he might be beginning to doubt his own judgment.

It was the change in atmosphere that drew Seto's attention from the shuffling of his dueling deck, something he'd been extremely glad to find he had slipped into his pocket through sheer force of habit.

Snape eyed him with something reminiscent of loathing as he stalked across the kitchen towards a cupboard, ignoring the stares that followed his path with long-practiced ease.

"I suppose I should thank you."

Seto's voice held the barest hints of sarcasm, just enough to capture the ire of the man his statement had been directed at. He had never dealt very well with being ignored.

The occupants of the room simultaneously craned their heads around to watch. Up until now, Seto hadn't spoken a word in their company. He was fairly certain they'd been under the impression he couldn't even speak English. He hadn't gone out of his way to correct them.

Dark, angry eyes settled on him, an eyebrow raised precariously amidst greasy curtains of hair. Snape seemed to be waiting for something else from him.

Seto wasn't sure what it was that he was waiting for. He didn't make a habit of thanking people.

"Is that it?" was the sneering response as Snape flicked his long black cloak off of his shoulders with dramatic indignance.

Seto ignored the pointed glare that Mokuba was signaling him with. He had enough pent up anger to last for weeks and was determined to find someone to blame.

"I don't know why I bothered to intervene," Snape finally scoffed, turning back to the cupboard with a dismissive sneer. "_Clearly_ we would have been better off if I had let you get thrown into Azkaban."

Seto had the feeling, from the subdued faces that surrounded him, that where-ever Azkaban was, it wasn't exactly five star accommodation. He turned back to shuffling his cards, perfectly collected as he replied, "I am quite capable of protecting myself."

He watched Snape's shoulders stiffen from the corner of his eye, and did his best to ignore the sharp jab to the ribs Mokuba shot his way.

When Snape whirled around his lips were pressed in a thin line and he surveyed Seto with thinly-veiled dislike, one hand raised to brush the skin of his throat. "That inflated ego will be your downfall, Kaiba."

"You know nothing about me," Seto replied dismissively, the sneer already forming on his lips.

A thin smile grazed Snape's lips. "I know more than you think, Kaiba."

There was a brief moment where Mokuba waited with baited breath, awaiting the impending sticky fate that Snape was sure to face until, quite unexpectedly, a small smirk twitched across Seto's lips and he resumed shuffling his cards.

"Then you should know, Severus, that things aren't always what they seem."

* * *

He was beginning to feel claustrophobic.

The house, which at first glance gave the impression of being large and stately, was much smaller than it first appeared.

Seto wanted nothing more than to do the mundane tasks that filled his everyday life in Domino. Going to work, being in his own home, attending meetings, stopping by the development labs to add his own expertise to new projects and dropping in on Kaiba Land when the mood struck him. He hadn't realized how much he enjoyed these freedoms until he found himself deprived of them. Two days and already he was beginning to loathe every single thing about this place.

He was quite sure he wouldn't last two weeks here.

Currently he was perched in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the ironically termed living room, which had a very singular appeal in it's apparent lack of living creatures. He had discovered the room that morning and decided that it's antisocial disposition suited him.

He had heard a commotion some time ago with a lot of yelling that was eventually accompanied by shrieking from one of the portraits in the entrance way. Seto had been surprised enough to find that the portraits in this world moved, let alone that they could speak as well. It seemed that many inanimate objects in this world were more animate than they should have been.

Seto hadn't moved, content to be left alone by the wizards. Mokuba was sprawled grumpily across a sofa nearby, muttering about the down-sides of being a Kaiba.

Over the past two days, in which they had tried miserably to account for the difference in time zones, Seto had put to good use the general misconception of the house that his stony silence was a case of his lack of fluency in the language. It was remarkable what people let slip when they assumed that you didn't understand them. He had discovered that the house _did_ house a family, though they often talked about a _home_ which led Seto to assume that this wasn't _their_ house. A puzzling situation, yes, but not one Seto was inclined to ask about.

That would make it seem like he cared.

Seto scowled at the ceiling and was startled when the Rod grew warm against his fingers. He hadn't even realized he was holding it.

Set wandered lazily around the room as though to stretch his legs, a frankly baffling exercise for a bodiless entity, before rounding on Seto with a raised eyebrow and ignoring the bemused expression on Mokuba's face. Mokuba had discovered he could see the pattern of the carpet through the spirit's 'body'.

Seto glared irritably in Set's general direction. "_What?_"

Set scowled back at him. "So much _hostility_, omote. People used to respect me, I was once the second-most powerful man in all of Kemet."

Seto let out a snort of laughter as Mokuba intoned under his breath, "In _my_ day we had to walk fif_teen_ miles barefoot through the sand for _water_.."

The High Priest shot a sharp, suspicious stare at Mokuba who returned an impish smile. "_What_?"

Set frowned and turned back to Seto, annoyance forming creases across his transparent skin. "I was going to say that you should be investing more time into discovering more about these people and this world. The old man was particularly vague about this 'dark wizard' business. They're hiding much from us, omote, I don't trust them."

Seto let out another snort as Mokuba rolled his eyes and sing-songed, "Par-_a_-noid" under his breath.

Set shot another sharp look in Mokuba's direction. "We used to _remove_ the tongues of smart-mouthed children."

Mokuba stuck his own tongue out, rather childishly, before slumping back onto the sofa and watching with bored fascination as puffs of dust rose from where his feet hit the cushions.

Seto let out a long-suffering sigh and shoved the Rod back into his pocket. Raising his eyes to Set he begrudgingly rose to his feet. He appeared almost sulky.

"Perhaps _you_ should try to communicate with the primitive life-forms down there. They don't even use electricity. You'll fit in perfectly."

Mokuba began to mutter savagely under his breath. Apparently the mention of electricity had reminded him of his video games sitting at home, rusting with disuse.

Set rolled his eyes. The Kaiba brothers were more alike than either would care to acknowledge.

"Do you want to be stuck in a house filled with people who are plotting your murder? I thought you were intelligent, omote. In Kemet we used to take the unknown _seriously_, tell me has that gone out of fashion now?"

Seto suppressed a smirk as Mokuba mimicked darkly, "In _Kemet_.."

Mokuba found a very dark, very irritable narrowed stare turned upon him and was reminded vividly of Seto in a bad mood. He rather wisely decided to keep his tongue firmly inside his mouth.

"I can't _make_ you take these people seriously," Set chided when he finally turned back to Seto. "Just know that they are far more adept at their magic than you are. I doubt you could summon a _Kuribo_ to protect you and your brother."

Seto's eyes narrowed at this and suddenly he seemed a great deal more serious. Apparently the mere mentioning of Kuribo was enough to rile his temper. "Perhaps _you_ should teach me then."

Smugness practically oozed from the Spirit as he smirked. "I'd be _honored_."

Realizing that he'd just walked into a very obvious trap, Seto grimaced visibly.

Set looked rather pleased with himself.

Seto couldn't help but wonder what he had gotten himself into, despite protests to the contrary, he knew far more about Shadow Magic than he cared to let on and Set looked far too happy about the situation for Seto to like it. He had a feeling that he would come to regret ever having said those words.

With a resigned sigh Seto trudged towards the door with the resolution of learning more about his situation. He glared pointedly at Mokuba until he huffed loudly and rolled to his feet.

Set smirked and strolled after them, resigned to the fact that he would just have to play spectator for now. It looked like Seto was finally on his way to becoming a suitable student for a High Priest. (**4**)

* * *

Seto grimaced as he stepped into the kitchen. He hadn't expected so many people.

The group were gathered around the dining table chatting enthusiastically amongst each other. Along with a large extension of the Weasley clan there were a vast number of unfamiliar faces. Mokuba bumped into him and let out a loud curse as he stubbed his toe.

Scowling, Seto turned his head sharply, "_Mokuba_."

The twelve year old mumbled what passed for an apology and rubbed the back of his head before turning curious eyes on the scene ahead of them. Apparently his less than graceful entrance had caught the attention of the tables occupants.

Seto swiftly turned back to the group and felt an ominous twitch tug at his eyebrow. He had never enjoyed social niceties.

Mrs Weasley eyed them warily over her smile as she announced, "There you are Seto, Mokuba, I was about to call you down for dinner."

Seto flinched at the woman's use of his first name. The familiarity with which these people used his given name was jarring. With his mind focused on procuring information he attempted to smile, failed, and instead gave a rather less menacing scowl than usual.

'_Nice work_,' Set sniggered.

Seto endeavored to ignore him.

Mokuba skirted around his brother's side and rolled his eyes at Seto's reaction. "Thank you, Mrs Weasley," he managed to chirp in an echo of his usual good humor.

Seto wondered just when his brother had gotten so good at acting.

Mrs Weasley's smile broadened marginally and she turned back to address the rest of the table. "This is Seto and Mokuba Kaiba, they're going to be staying here for a while."

Seto inclined his head stiffly.

"Boys, this is Remus Lupin," she gestured toward a man in his mid-forties with graying brown hair and a sad smile.

"Kingsley Shacklebot," she acknowledged a large man with dark skin and a shaven head.

"My sons, Fred and George," a pair of identical red-headed twins with wicked grins watched them with interest.

"My oldest son Bill," a man in his mid-twenties shot a smile at them, his long red hair was tied back in a style that was reminiscent of Otogi Ryuuji. "And you've already met Arthur of course. Then there's Ginny and Tonks – you've met them too, I believe."

At this the two girls murmured beneath their breaths and broke into giggles.

".. And then there's Hermione Granger and my youngest son, Ron," the girl eyed him with something that looked like recognition. Seto hoped it wasn't.

" .. And last of all there's Harry Potter."

At this Molly Weasley smiled dotingly at the boy in question. He had short, messy dark hair, large green eyes that were fixed behind glasses and wore extremely stretched, baggy clothing that was at least five sizes too big for him.

"Harry just arrived this afternoon. Come now, sit down. No need to be shy."

Tonks and Ginny exploded into more giggles and Mokuba's lips twitched before plunking himself down in the nearest vacant seat. Seto followed suit silently, glad that he had disposed of his trench coat earlier that morning. It was simply to bulky to move around with in the house that was filled to the brim with strange artifacts that Set had declared to be filled with dark magic.

"So Harry, how are the muggles treating you?"

One of the twins looked towards Harry with interest, his cheer veiling the slightest hint of concern. He offered a vague, bitter smile of response and stabbed his fork into a plate of stew. "Ignoring me, you mean. They seem to believe that if they pretend I don't exist I'll simply vanish off of the face of the earth."

"The usual then?" the other twin snorted aloud and Harry's smile grew.

"Yeah.. I guess."

Harry turned back to the Weasley seated at his side and the pair began to mutter amongst themselves. The girl, Hermione, was now talking with Tonks and Ginny. He thought they may have been present for his run-in with Snape the day before.

The dinner went by, mostly uneventful, until it happened.

Seto heard a spluttering snort of laughter from somewhere nearby and glanced up warily when one of the twins turned a thoroughly awe-filled expression towards him. "Did you _really_ pull a knife on old Snapey-boy?"

Seto felt the grimace on his face threaten to degenerate into a scowl. "Yes," he replied crisply without elaboration.

He heard a gasp from somewhere to his right before the red-haired boy that sat next to Harry, _Ron_ he believed, burst into laughter. "I would pay to see the look on Snape's face. That would have been golden."

Mrs Weasley tossed her son a look of the utmost disapproval. "That's _Professor_ Snape, Ron, and I hardly think it's funny to be threatening others with weapons."

She shot a dark look in Seto's direction that seemed to indicate that the whole fiasco was entirely his fault. Seto noted the multiple sets of eyes that now watched him intently.

Unable to bite back the response that lingered on his tongue Seto let loose, "I _apologize_," the word was spat out in precisely the right tone of voice to assure them that it's sentiments were in no way sincere, "Perhaps next time I'm kidnapped I'll simply sit back and have a cup of tea. That seems to be the acceptable thing to do around here." (**5.**)

Mokuba jabbed him viciously in the side and ground out an embarrassed, "Seto!"

His outburst had caught the entire tables attention and he could hear Set muttering an amused congratulations in his ear. A large contingent of the table seemed stunned by his ability to string together a full sentence.

"What do you mean _kidnapped?_" Ron blurted out.

Seto let out a hollow laugh, "Do you really think I'm here by _choice_?"

Mokuba slammed his heel down on his brother's foot and rounded on him with narrowed eyes, hissing under his breath, "Stop it!"

They heard a soft gasp of surprise from somewhere near Ron. Seto jerked his head around to find Hermione staring at him with sudden realization, she turned pink and ducked her head when she realized he had heard her.

Ron opened his mouth as though to question him further but was cut off by a soft clearing of someone's throat. Seto swiveled upon the man who had been introduced as Remus Lupin as he spoke in a calm, polite voice, "I think that's quite enough."

Ron's ears turned pink and he hid his face as he stared down at his place and stuffed a forkful of stew into his mouth.

Seto turned his head back towards Mokuba and resignedly closed his mouth at the imploring stare he received. A disapproving Mrs Weasley pursed her lips and lent over to dollop another spoonful of stew onto Harry's plate.

Ignoring the food on his own plate Seto averted his eyes from the table and its many staring occupants. He instead inspected the objects that had been piled untidily in the corner of the room to make room for their dinner.

Seto's eyes were brought to a grinding halt on a pile of untidily stacked and folded old newspapers. Because there, blinking up at him from yesterday's edition of '_The Daily Prophet_' underneath a large bold headline were two very familiar faces.

_

* * *

_

**Footnotes**:  
**1.** If I need to explain who John McClane is, there is something seriously wrong with this world.  
**2**. ... The Kaiba's always end up dealing with kidnapping. It's the one consistent plot-line of the show.  
**3**. Bad, bad Fudgey. No ice-cream for you.  
**4**. Oh the fun that will be had.  
**5**. Couldn't resist the old cliché..

* * *

**AN**: Um. Moaaar editing?

* * *

_"You wouldn't swear at us, would you Murray?"_

_".. Get fucked, Bret."_


	7. The Daily Prophet

**Summary: **When a politically charged Magical world in turmoil suddenly becomes his problem, Kaiba finds that not all fairytales are just stories and sometimes, in the absence of a hero, even a reluctant Anti-Hero will do. HPYGO  
**Warnings:** May contain minor traces of Shounen-Ai, a good dash of nasty language and a side-serving of occasional death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Six-  
**The Daily Prophet.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-  
_

* * *

Seto had jerked to his feet and grabbed the newspaper before he had even realised what he was doing. The curious stares that followed him were dutifully ignored as his fingers brushed listlessly over the two moving black and white photographs that sat side by side beneath a large, bold headline; '_Arrests Made in Ministry Round Up._'

It was one of the last places he had expected to see the faces of Bakura Ryou and Otogi Ryuuji.

Seto frowned at the sight of his two class-mates, people who he had (somewhat unwillingly) seen only a couple of days ago. His eyes were magnetically drawn to the fine-print article that stretched out beneath the two faces;

'_Investigations made by the Ministry of Magic into use of illegal magic struck gold for Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, yesterday afternoon when the arrests of two foreign teenagers were made. The arrests (made by Ministry Aurors under the authority of the Japanese Ministry late yesterday afternoon) are only the beginning of what Fudge says he hopes to be a clean-sweep of illegal magic-users._

_The arrests are the first to be made in light of Fudge's new zero-tolerance policy in regards to the unregistered use of dangerous magic. Despite Fudge's insistence that it has nothing to do with certain errors made over the past twelve months, many have made the not-so-distant connection between the installment of the new system with the Ministry's recent blunders concerning You-Know-Who's return._

_The details concerning the two teenagers' arrests have yet to be released, but Head Auror in charge of the operation, James Dawlish, has said he is confident that both suspects will be convicted at their double-hearing on Wednesday morning._

_Dawlish firmly denies the rumored accusations that further arrests were met with resistance. Whether this will be enough to quash the rumors that known Aurors have been seen being admitted to St Mungo's is yet to be seen. _

_- Article continued, Page 8_' (**1**)

The paper dropped silently from Seto's trembling fingers as he stared at the floor.

It all seemed to fit neatly into place now. The '_yesterday evening_' would fit in around the same time that he had been_ rescued _(if you could call it that) by Snape. They had all gone off in their separate directions on the way home. Him and Mokuba – Yuugi, Jounouchi, Honda and Anzu - and _Bakura and Otogi._

He could feel a large rolling wave of Set's anger sweeping over him as the Priest began a furious tirade of thoughts that Seto wasn't entirely sure he was supposed to be hearing; 'I would have thought the Tomb Robber could have handled these modern-day wizards. I suppose they overpowered him – _cowards._'

The fact that Set was angry on the _Tomb Robber's_ (as he so belligerently continued to call him) behalf was enough to show Seto just how disgusted the Priest was by the Wizards actions. Set had something of a very serious grudge (bordering on _vendetta_)against the Tomb Robber. It had something to do with the desecration of sacred places; Seto had decided not to ask.

Seto shut the spirit's thoughts out as his temper began to skyrocket. He had had quite enough of these _wizards _after only a few _days _spent in their was fairly sure that Otogi Ryuuji didn't possess an _ounce_ of magic. The likelihood that he was just an innocent by-stander enraged Seto beyond anything he could comprehend considering the usual indifference he felt towards his classmate. This so called 'Ministry of Magic' had taken things much too far, if he ever saw this Cornelius Fudge he doubted the man would come out alive.

"Seto? What's wrong?"

Seto's blood caught fire and his lips turned in a sharp, furious line. They would _pay_.

"Seto?"

The pair of black and white photographs stared up at him. Otogi's headshot was smirking, long fingers curled in his dark hair and as Seto watched the boy in the photograph _winked_ at him, unerringly flirtatious even in such dire circumstances, while Bakura's photograph sneered and snarled, a clear indication of just _who _was in control of the body at that point in time. Seeing his classmates staring back at him from beneath that ominous headline seemed, somehow, to cement his unwilling, precarious position within this foreign world just a little bit _more_. It struck him as nothing else since being wrenched up out of his comfortable little life and thrown into this strange, dim house had.

The warmth of the Sennen Rod ebbed outwards and ghostly arms draped around his waist, whilst feeding soothing affirmation into his mind.

"Seto, what's going _on_?"

Mokuba's hand seized hold of his brothers arm, hard, and he stared in startled confusion at the mirror image that had attached itself to his brother's waist. Now that Mokuba could see Seto's face he saw the cold lines of fury that had been etched there. Seto's eyes were stormy as he dropped the paper from his fingers to land, face up, at his feet.

Mokuba followed the newspaper's descent, confusion warring with the worry on his face before a gasp of horror escaped him and he dropped to his knees. His fingers reached out, stricken, to trace over the faces captured so faithfully in the photographs.

"What's the matter with _you?_" Ron grunted loudly through a mouthful of stew.

The bushy-haired girl next to him gave a loud reprimand of, "_Ron!_" that silenced him immediately.

The fact that Seto was trembling with rage didn't escape the spectators' attention. Nor did Mokuba's horrified reaction to whatever discovery that his brother had made. Mrs Weasley's feelings of hostility vanished the moment she caught the expression on the younger Kaiba's face and, spurred by motherly instincts that she had never been able to deny, she made to stand. "What on earth is the matter?" she asked, concern shining in warm brown eyes.

A hand on her arm gave her pause and she watched, surprise crossing her face, as Mokuba rose to his feet and buried his face into his brother's chest rambling in rapid, anxious Japanese. A surprisingly gentle hand rose to rest atop Mokuba's unruly hair.

Seto's anger appeared to have drained away at the first signs of his brother's distress.

"Don't worry Mokuba," Seto informed his brother, his tone firm but with a fondness that coloured his brother's name, "I won't let them get away with this."

There was a very good reason why Seto Kaiba had such a curious affinity for his dragons. The fact that the temperament of the creatures was almost as explosive as his own was _one _of the reasons, and perhaps a rare insight, into the blazing intensity that smoldered off of Seto's devastating blue eyes that were so akin to that of his favourite duel monster.

Unwittingly Cornelius Fudge had made a very dear and extremely costly mistake; he had crossed Seto Kaiba.

Very few people in the history of the world that had been in such a precarious position as the Minister of Magic had found himself in had ever come out of it unscathed. In his ignorance Cornelius Fudge had, quite accidentally, woken a sleeping dragon. (**2**)

* * *

"You aren't very sociable," was the disgruntled observation that Ron Weasley made the following morning.

"And _you_ aren't very smart, did I point it out?" Seto retorted irritably.

Harry hid a grin behind '_Flying with the Cannons_' as Ron turned a marvelous shade of scarlet and turned his head back to the Chess Board.

Seto merely scowled.

It hadn't taken long for Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny to discover his safe-haven and, for some mysterious reason, they seemed to take particular pleasure in inflicting their company upon him.

Seto had a very strong feeling that Molly Weasley had something to do with it.

It had seemed that the woman had decided, of her own accord, that Seto didn't _really _mean to be as rude as he was and that he was really just too _shy_ to express himself in a proper manner. In short, she seemed to think that Seto was _lonely_.

So, in an attempt to make Seto a much more satisfactory person, it seemed she had strong-armed her son, daughter and their friends into trying to crack Seto's impressive defenses.

As it was they seemed closer to simply making him _crack_.

There was something awfully reminiscent of Yuugi's band of friends in the motly crew of teenaged wizards and witches. Something that made Seto fear tremendously for his blood pressure and his sanity.

Over the past few hours Seto had come to realise that he was a source of great interest to the four teenagers, who had failed miserably in their digging for information. Seto had dealt with more reporters in his lifetime than he cared to remember, he knew very _well_ when he was being grilled for information and these wizards and witches were _anything _but subtle. (**3**)

The only reason that Seto tolerated their presence, insofar as he hadn't gone in search of a _new_ place to sit and brood in, was the fact that Mokuba seemed to enjoy the change in company. Or rather, it gave him something to _do_.

Seto shot a glance towards where Mokuba was engaged in a game of Wizarding Chess with the youngest of the Weasley brothers, Ron. He had very quickly determined that it was very similar to the version of the game that he was accustomed to, the only differences being that the chess-pieces were quite animate, spent most of their time alternating between hurling insults and advice at one another (and, depending on the state of the game, the players) and rather violent. It had been a great source of surprise to Seto that Ron, who he had taken to be a bit of an idiot, was rather good at it.

But then again, perhaps he was to Chess what Jounouchi Katsuya was to Magic and Wizards; a pure fluke. Seto figured there had to be _someone _in every sport like them.. Someone to provide the comic relief that was.

What Ron Weasley had failed to figure out was that being the brother to the infamous Game-Master Kaiba had its benefits in that you learned all of the tricks of the trade.

The red-head was losing dismally.

Seto had his suspicions that Mokuba, never having been the most scrupulous of players, was cheating.

It only took a few more moments of observation before Mokuba swiped another of Ron's chessman while the red-head wasn't looking, hurriedly stifling it's attempts to cry foul in one of his pockets. Seto fought back the fond smile that threatened his lips at the (not the least bit unexpected) revelation.

Ron swore violently as he surveyed his troops, his attention once again returned to the game at hand, before muttering suspiciously aloud, "I could have _sworn _I had a bishop left."

Seto rolled his eyes while Mokuba faked a loud cough to cover the muffled swearing that was emanating from his pockets. Far be it for _him _to interfere with Mokuba's fun, he had more important things to worry about.

There were several things that Seto knew he had to take care of. For one, he knew that no matter how dangerous that old fool had _said_ it would be for him to go home, there were things that he simply _needed _in his possession. For the sake of his and Mokuba's livelihood, if not for the economical stability of Domino City and in turn, Japan.

The second was a much more demanding and infinitely more complex task; he had to help Bakura Ryou and Otogi Ryuuji.

This was something he had spent a lot of time thinking over. Seto had no idea what kind of sentencing the pair were likely to be facing, nor did he know what would happen if they were, indeed, convicted.

It wasn't as if he could go charging into some Wizarding Court-room (assuming they _had _such a thing) demanding justice from the very people who were looking to convict him of _similar_ if not _identical_ charges. He doubted that _that_ course of action would be particularly effective.

He had gotten a very _primitive, _tit for tat feeling about the wizards judicial system from what little he'd been able to subtly coax out of the four teenagers who'd made it their business to talk to him. Harry in particular had seemed to hold something of a grudge against what he had called the _Wizengamot_. Seto didn't think he wanted to know what would happen to his class-mates in a worst case scenario.

The fact that Seto actually _cared_ about the fates of his class-mates was particularly puzzling to him. He doubted that if Yuugi Mutou were around to save the day that he would have bothered himself with anything resembling this crusade for justice against the wizarding higher powers. However, with Yuugi Mutou likely still stuck far away in Domino, he was left with little choice.

Mokuba would never forgive him if he left the pair to rot away in some sub-standard prison.

Seto's thoughts were abruptly wrenched away from the predicament of Bakura and Otogi when he found Set's voice echoing impatiently in his head, '_Don't forget about your lessons, omote._'

A snort escaped Seto's lips, drawing several interested faces in his direction, to which he stared stonily back. '_How could I possibly _forget_? You've been reminding me every five minutes since I said it_.'

Set's voice was decidedly sulky when he spoke again, _'I thought you would be interested in learning something that could help you gain more power, _Game-Master Kaiba.'

Seto grimaced. People had stopped calling him that a long time ago, more precisely around the time that he had been beaten by a certain spiky-haired _midget_.

Seto's response was silky smooth and carefully calculated, '_Are you implying _I'm_ power-hungry, Set?_'

There was just enough emphasis placed on the right words to make Set bristle. Lingering memories of the shadow game that Seto and Yuugi had witnessed during the Battle City finals came, unbidden, to mind. The fact that Seto had, until very recently, considered the memories to be nothing more than a strange shared hallucination (_maybe _epileptic fit, caused by a malfunction with the Duel Disks) was blatantly ignored in favour of one-upping the High Priest.

Set let loose some truly prodigious snarls that very quickly degenerated into some not-so-flattering names and descriptions of his reincarnation.

Seto felt a smirk curl easily across his lips as he lazily goaded the spirit. '_So much _hostility, _Set._'

'_I'll _give_ you hostile,_' the spirit uttered back darkly.

Allowing the smug feeling of triumph to settle for a while, Seto absently rubbed a finger along the warm gold of the Sennen Rod where it was tucked into the waistband of his pants. That brought another reason for getting out of this hovel (however briefly) to mind.

He and Mokuba needed more clothing (clothing that was _not _musty old _robes_ or hand-me-downs from any number of _Weasleys_). There was only so much longer that they could exist with only the clothes on their backs and the more attractive that those hand-me-downs and _robes _got, the more convinced Seto was that this place was beginning to lay a claim on them.

Seto glanced up, effortlessly ignoring the snide comments that echoed through his mind regarding his previous train of thought and inspected the progress of Mokuba's chess game. He rolled his eyes with something akin to exasperation, that was just getting _ridiculous_.

The pockets of Mokuba's jeans were bulging with swearing swiped chess-pieces from Ron's side of the board, a fact that Mokuba was masterfully hiding by keeping up a _loud _running commentary of just about anything he could think of and the red-head was beginning to look desperate.

"I bloody well _know _I had a knight on the board. I don't understand," the red-head was muttering aloud as he pulled at his hair with a rueful expression, completely ignoring the visible wince of pain Mokuba gave as said knight jabbed him indignantly in the thigh.

Mokuba's own pieces seemed to find their players outright treachery rather amusing.

In a feat of kindness that Seto wasn't likely to repeat any time soon he gave a pointed stare in Mokuba's direction, "Quit _cheating,_ you little brat."

Mokuba started visibly and turned wide (_definitely annoyed_) eyes toward his brother before letting out a frustrated yell of, "'_Nii-sama_! I was just about to _win_!"

Ron blinked once, then again, as he looked from Seto to Mokuba slowly before comprehension dawned, his ears turned a magnificent shade of pink and he roared, "He was _cheating_? I _knew _it!"

The red-head's accusing, narrowed eyes fixed on Mokuba who unrepentantly stuck his tongue out before tilting his head back and informing his opponent in an infuriatingly amused voice, "It's not _my _fault you're such an easy target."

Ron let out a splutter of indignation while a loud snort of laughter erupted from the floor where Ginny and Hermione were gathered throwing corks for an enormous, fluffy ginger cat to chase. Harry did a very good job of hiding his grin behind the pages of his book.

Mokuba shot a dire warning in Seto's direction before turning to the red-head with an unabashed stare of presumed innocence.

"_So,_ wanna play again?"

Ron seemed to forget his fury and appeared to seriously consider the offer before he choked on realization and bellowed with glowing cheeks, "_No _you little _con-artist!_"

Suppressed laughter finally escaped from behind Harry's book and Ginny and Hermione exchanged amused grins.

Seto was the only one who noticed when the door was pushed further open to admit a faintly amused Remus Lupin who had obviously caught the tail-end of the exchange. He scanned the rooms occupants before his stare came to rest on Seto.

"Professor Lupin!" Hermione exclaimed, her surprise to see the man evident as he expertly caught a rogue cork beneath his foot and gave the girl a brief, sad smile.

"_Remus, _Hermione. I'm not your Professor anymore," he corrected absent-mindedly as he rolled the cork beneath his shoe.

"What are you doing here, Pro – _Remus?_" Harry asked curiously, having set aside his book to regard the older man closely.

Lupin cast a somewhat worn smile at Harry before he answered, "Actually, I was hoping to have a word with Mister Kaiba," the elder Wizard's eyes travelled the short distance towards Seto to hover over him.

Seto obligingly rose from his chair and the smile on Remus' face solidified into something more substantial as he waved him toward the door. Seto could feel Mokuba's eyes burning into his back as he left the room and was sure that the boy knew he was about to miss out on something, once _again_.

Seto followed Lupin down the long corridor that stretched along the bottom floor of the house and took the time to properly size-up the elder Wizard for the first time.

Lupin was surprisingly young beneath that tired, stretched expression he seemed to wear like his own skin. There was a lingering tragedy burning somewhere in the back of that carefully maintained, mild expression; a sadness that lingered in the lines around his eyes. He was a man that, Seto suspected, had seen far too much for someone of his age but had refused to allow it to break him. Beneath the patched, shabby robes and grey-streaked hair was a defiant strength and resilience. If Seto looked at him too closely he got the odd, niggling feeling that it was the sort of expression that could sometimes be found on his own face.

The elder man held the door open for him and Seto belatedly realised that their destination had been the kitchen. Seto slipped through the door with the faintest of grimaces turning down his lips. What was _with_ these people and that kitchen?

"You wished to talk to Dumbledore again, did you not Mister Kaiba?" Lupin inquired as he allowed the door to close behind him and strode passed the elder Kaiba towards the table.

Several pairs of eyes rose to look up at them as Remus settled himself into a seat and gestured for Seto to do the same. It didn't take Seto long to notice that, while none of the present faces belonged to the aforementioned Albus Dumbledore, one _did_ belong to Severus Snape and he didn't seem particularly pleased about Seto's presence.

"Yes," Seto replied, a frown settling into place around his mouth as his eyes returned to fix on Lupin's.

Remus gave a patient smile, his eyes twinkling with a ghost of amusement as they turned from Snape, who was muttering darkly beneath his breath, and back to Seto again. Snape seemed to realise the attention he'd been accorded and scowled. _The Daily Prophet_ rustled loudly as it was drawn further up over his face.

"I'm afraid that Albus is rather busy at the moment and can't spare the time. He has instructed me to answer any questions that you may have in his place," Lupin acknowledged in a cool, polite tone that Seto found himself unable to broker any irritation at.

Set's presence returned enthusiastically into the foreground of his mind, apparently calling truce over their previous run-in in order to give a few suggestions as to what Seto should question the man about. Seto wondered, briefly, why the spirit showed such enthusiasm when it came to interrogation and came to the conclusion that he probably didn't want to know.

Seto addressed the other man without hesitation, all business now that the opportunity had presented itself, "It is extremely important that I return to Domino."

Lupin's eyes were startlingly unsurprised, he let out a faint sigh, combing a hand through his greying hair as he spoke, "I'm afraid that is one thing that I cannot agree to."

Seto was not to be deterred. His dark stare pinned the older man down with many years of practice and he spoke slowly and smoothly every inch of the professional he had built his business reputation around, "This isn't a trivial demand, Mister Lupin, I require certain items if I am to remain in this household. I take the running of my company _very _seriously."

There was a snort of distaste from behind the covers of '_The Daily Prophet_' and Seto caught a low silky muttering of, "I'm sure that your _precious_ company will survive without you."

Remus Lupin harboured a serious concern that Seto's eyes would burn right through the newspaper, such was the intensity of the glare that rested upon it. When Seto opened his mouth to speak his voice was dangerously calm, "You are obviously not a businessman then, _Severus._"

Snape allowed the papers to droop so he could peer over them and narrowed his dark eyes at Seto. Dislike carved every line of his face.

"If _that_ were the case than I would not have bothered you. As it is, over the past few years Kaiba Corporation has become an integral part of _Japan's_ economy," Seto's blue eyes were hawkish and calculating as they darted briefly between Snape and Lupin's faces, "But if you _wish_ to be responsible for an entire countries economical decline.."

Seto's eyes returned to rest a pointed stare on Remus Lupin's face as he allowed his sentence to linger, unfinished and ominous, in the air. Perhaps _slightly _exaggerated, but Seto had been in business long enough to know that sometimes a good bluff was necessary to achieve your goals.

Remus didn't seem to know quite what to say, he mustered a frown to his face, observing Seto carefully. "What is it precisely that you need Mister Kaiba?" he finally inquired, an odd twitch tugging at the corners of his lips.

Seto felt Set begin to snicker to himself and suppressed a smile as Lupin's knowing eyes surveyed his own and the spirit commented, '_You're a great deal more manipulative than I had realised, omote._'

"I require my laptop, my briefcase and some extra clothing for Mokuba and myself."

Lupin chewed his lip absently as he mulled the idea over in his mind, before an idea clubbed him forcefully over the head. He could barely contain the smile that threatened to spill over his face or the twinkle that sparked to life in his eyes as he glanced surreptitiously towards the newspaper that hid Snape's face before returning his attention to Seto.

Not for the first time, someone realised that perhaps they had underestimated Remus Lupin's character.

"In that case, I'm sure Severus will have no objections in taking you."

_The Daily Prophet_ fell with a rustle to the tabletop and Lupin was assailed with a livid, black stare. Remus had been right in assuming that Snape had been listening close to every word that had been said.

"I most certainly will _not_ take _him _anywhere!" the Potions Master ground out, the expression on his face decidedly intimidating even by Seto's high standards.

Lupin gave a wan smile and tilted his head absently on an angle to inspect Severus as though he were a mildly interesting insect he was considering capturing in a jar. His amusement was evident. "I do _believe,_ Severus, that at present you are the only one of us who can spare the time. Especially considering _recent _developments."

Snape growled viciously under his breath as though he'd very much like to throw something at Lupin's head (preferably a particularly disfiguring curse) before turning his glare onwards to where Seto was sitting. To Severus' surprise, however, Seto was not looking at him or Lupin. Instead he seemed very much interested in an article he had spotted in _Severus's _Daily Prophet.

Snape growled as he realized Seto had reached over and grabbed the newspaper without his knowledge.

"If you _don't _mind," Severus growled reaching out to grab the paper but had his hand promptly slapped away.

"I do."

Seto hadn't even looked up.

More than annoyed, Snape rose to his feet to reach out for the newspaper but was stilled by a sharp look from Lupin's direction. The man had leaned over to see what it was that had caught Seto's attention.

Seto himself was visibly effected by the news that he found splashed across the middle pages of '_The Daily Prophet_'. It was the second time in as many days that he had found bad news concerning people of his acquaintance and he was beginning to think that the paper consisted of little but.

The fact that Seto hadn't heard anything of the Ishtar family since Battle City had never particularly bothered him up until _now_. As far as he was concerned the Ishtars' were nothing but bad news; much like the paper he was reading.

The headline that stretched across the article didn't mean much at first to Seto; '_Death Eater Involvement Suspected in Egyptologists Murder._'

It was the word _Ishtar _that had jumped out from the page at him that caught his attention, now as he read it, Seto was beginning to wish he hadn't seen the article at all.

'_The death of Muggle-Egyptologist Isis Ishtar has been under investigation by the Egyptian Ministry of Magic after rumors that Death Eaters were involved. Miss Ishtar, a noted scholar of the more obscure dynasties of Ancient Egypt was in the process of translating a newly discovered stone-tablet when she was found dead under suspicious circumstances in her home._

_Ishtar's younger brother, who was assisting in the translation of the tablet, has also been reported missing and their step-brother has been at the center of questioning by both Muggle Police and the Egyptian Ministry of Magic. _

_The suspicion of You-Know-Who's involvement is rumored to be highly likely as a green sign, reportedly the Dark Mark was seen hovering over the Ishtar's residence several hours before Miss Ishtar's body was discovered. This is uncertain however as the Dark Mark had disappeared before authorities arrived. This is just one of several, suspicious recent deaths occurring outside of British soil that have led to worries that, this time around, You-Know-Who is hoping to extend his influence beyond the British Isles._

_It seems likely that Miss Ishtar is yet another victim of You-Know-Who's return to power – this reporter only wonders whether her death and others like it could have been prevented._'

Lupin hadn't failed to notice the whitening of Seto's cheeks or the trembling of his hands as he pushed the paper away from him towards Snape's still outstretched hand. He turned shaken blue eyes firmly onto Remus with determination before he announced resolutely, "I want to know about this _You-Know-Who_."

* * *

When Seto left the kitchen after the lengthy, unfinished story that chronicled the Dark Lord, Voldemort and Harry Potter, the room was silent for some time. _The Daily Prophet_ lay open on the kitchen table at the pages that Seto had previously been looking at, the article currently being the object of attention as two men stooped over it.

A subtle shoving war had been in progress for the past five minutes.

Remus Lupin drove his elbow outwards, effectively pushing Severus Snape out of the way long enough to get a satisfactory once-over of the article. Snape delivered a dark stare in response.

Glancing up from the article the conclusion in Remus' eyes was obvious; it was the same one that Snape had come to _five minutes ago_.

"I think it's about time we figured out _precisely _what it is that Mister Kaiba is hiding from us," Lupin muttered aloud with a barely detectable sharpening of his eyes.

Snape let out a barely detectable snort, "'_About_ _time_'? I've been trying to get you and _Dumbledore _to agree with me for days."

Lupin raised an eyebrow lazily as he sank back into a chair, the one _Snape _had been occupying incidentally, and ignored the glare that he received.

"Really? _I _don't seem to recall..."

Snape glowered.

Lupin's mouth twitched and he reached over to pour himself another cup of tea. (**4**)

* * *

Standing in the hallway of his own home Seto felt somewhat _odd._

Snape was staring around at the grandeur of the entrance hall, his lips twisted into some hybrid version of a scowl and a sneer. His dark eyes belied the expression however, they were widened with something akin to awe that a mere _teenager _could claim ownership of such a place.

Set was enjoying making a running commentary of Snape's reactions through Seto's mind, '_Now_ _it appears that Severus is trying to conceal his awe through scowling.._'

Seto steeled his expression against the amusement threatening to break through as he strode swiftly towards the staircase and swept upwards. He didn't trust Snape's patience enough to linger for _too_ long.

It didn't take him to long to pack up all of the necessities that he hadn't, necessarily, mentioned to Lupin. His laptop, cellphone (and a spare) and Duel Disk 3 Prototype were slipped quickly into his briefcase. A suitcase was untidily filled with clothing and Seto slipped a trench coat over his shoulders, glad that he had chosen to leave his other one back at _the hovel_.

He quickly moved onto packing Mokuba's _essential _items. He slipped several game boys and a game console into the suitcase while Severus wasn't looking and shook his head with amusement before hastening to add Mokuba's MP3 player. His brother would probably kill him if he forgot it.

Set's amused voice filtered through his mind as he kept up his adopted role as commentator, '.._And Seto checks to his left, to his right, finds an opening and in goes the luxury items. Severus doesn't suspect a thing..._'

Seto pulled a face and hefted the suitcases and his briefcase in his arms before glancing smoothly in Snape's direction. The man was regarding his luggage with a poisonous expression as though he couldn't comprehend someone _needing _that much clothing.

Snape grimaced and hefted one of Seto's many trophies off of his bedside table, turning it over in his long pale fingers with an odd sneer on his face. Seto shot a sharp look in the man's direction and was looking to protest when Snape produced a wand from his pocket, tapped it once and muttered, "_Portus_."

Seto watched with surprise as it glowed blue before it was pressed into Seto's hands and instructed to, "Hold onto this."

Seto was startled as Snape dissapeared with a resounding '_crack_!' before a familiar sensation wrenched his stomach and the world dissolved from beneath him.

Seto Kaiba decided that he didn't like Port-Keys very much.

* * *

When Harry, Ron and Hermione discovered Mokuba later that afternoon they were surprised to find that Seto wasn't with him. Mokuba was sprawled across his usual couch looking decidedly content with his Game-Boy blaring happily in his hands, thudding bass pounded from the headphones that cradled his ears.

Mokuba had been _more_ than happy to discover that Seto had smuggled him in some 'non-essential' items which included several of his beloved game-consoles. Mokuba had decided this constituted as an excuse for his brother not taking him with them.

When he spotted the three curious stares upon him, Mokuba pulled the headphones from his ears and paused his game to eye them with a raised eyebrow. Ron thought he looked disturbingly like his older brother when he did that.

"Where's your brother?" Harry asked curiously.

It was a rare sight to see one without the other after all, Harry wondered absently if the brothers did that to avoid being caught off-guard. Harry decided that he was probably being paranoid.

Mokuba gave a faint smile and gestured downwards with one thumb. All three stared at him blankly and Mokuba let out a long suffering sigh before clarifying.

"He's under the house."

Hermione raised an eyebrow and looked very much as if she would like to laugh, Ron didn't have the decency to keep his laughter to himself and Harry simply looked perplexed.

"What's he under _there_ for?" Ron sniggered out.

"I was looking for electricity sockets," was the sharp reply from behind them that made Hermione and Ron jump.

Seto was covered in dust and grime and looking decidedly less intimidating than usual with his long sleeves rolled back and lacking his usual ensemble of buckles and belts.

Harry raised an eyebrow at him and spoke up with a faint hint of confusion, "This is a wizarding house.. I don't think they're even connected to the electricity."

Seto gave an oddly pleased sort of smirk and commented in decidedly good-humor, "_Now_ they are." (**5**)

He heard Mokuba give a faint whoop under his breath and turn excitedly towards him, "Does that mean my game-consoles will work now?"

Hermione eyed him suspiciously with precisely the sort of expression that she used on the Weasley twins when trying to descern whether what they were doing was illegal, before asking, "What do you _mean_ 'now they are'?"

Seto's lips quirked and he proceeded to rather pointedly ignore her. Stalking passed the trio towards where Mokuba was seated. He hefted a shining silver briefcase from off of the ground and clicked it open before proceeding to rummage through it, producing with a flourish what seemed to be an electricity cable and extension cord.

Something about the briefcase must have unstuck something in Hermione's mind. For in the precise moment she saw the light reflect off of the immaculate surface she let out a gasp of realisation as though someone had just dealt her a blow with the, 'Oh, of _course_!' mallet.

"You – _you're _Seto Kaiba," she exclaimed with sudden, wide-eyed realisation.

Ron stared at her as if pondering if she was _quite _batty.

Mokuba let out a snort of amusement and flicked his headphones back over his ears.

Seto raised an eyebrow.

Harry was inclined to follow Ron's example.

"I should think that was obvious," Seto dead-panned, a trace of amusement reeling through his mind and striking Set violently over the head.

"No! You're _Seto **Kaiba**. _You're the owner of Kaiba Corporation. You're in the muggle papers nearly every _day_. I don't know why I didn't recognize you before.."

_'Because he hasn't been modeling his range of starch-ware_,' Set cheerily filled in the blanks, despite the fact that Hermione obviously couldn't hear him.

Seto's smirk slipped minutely.

Set was proving _much_ harder to ignore than the rest of the world; he supposed that was the way it tended to be when the one you wanted to ignore was a resident of your own mind.

Good humor drizzling away, Seto slumped down into _his _chair and proceeded to ignore the three of them.

This succeeded in thoroughly irritating Hermione (who was bursting to question him as to why _he _of all people was _here _of all places), amuse Harry (who had noticed Hermione slipping into '_Investigative-Mode_' and therefore was waiting for Seto to crack under the pressure) and bewilder Ron (the red-head _still _hadn't managed to fathom how anyone could go for so long without saying a word and _still _be so intimidating.)

He didn't even look up when the door opened and admitted the Weasley girl. He had picked up his briefcase and begun to rummage through the papers in search of more cables.

His mind eventually began to wander however, his brain had apparently decided to go on holiday with the amount of time he had managed to avoid going to work. Of course it didn't help that Set had taken to hanging over his shoulder and breathing on his neck (a curiosity indeed as the spirit neither _needed _to breathe nor had the necessary organs to _do_ so) – nor did it help when the spirit drawled directly into his ear, 'What's _that?_' every five minutes.

Apparently Set possessed the much feared_ touchy-feely_ gene that Seto had obviously been deprived of.

In spite of the obstacles presented Seto felt he had made rather substantial progress in his self-appointed tasks. He had not only managed to acquire his laptop _and_ cellphone, (which put him firmly back in control of Kaiba Corp) but he had also in the process managed to discover a great deal about the '_dark sorcerer_' that all of the wizards seemed to fear so much.

He had also discovered why all of the wizards treated Harry Potter like the proverbial cherry on top of the sundae.

_Mokuba_ was easily satisfied with his video-games once again in his clutches. He had even begun to teach the Weasley girl, Ginny how to play some of them. Though this was mostly because she seemed to have nothing better to do than throw corks at Hermione's bad-tempered, beast of a cat.

The only dilemmas that were left were ones that he wished he didn't know about. It was presently Tuesday evening and the following morning Bakura Ryou and Otogi Ryuuji would be facing a hearing and there wasn't anything that _he_ could do about it. The other was the problem of whether or not he should tell Mokuba about Isis Ishtar's death.

He didn't know whether or not he should upset Mokuba with the news or just hope that it never came up. Seto slumped back into his chair and glanced briefly towards where Ginny and Mokuba sat side-by-side on thecouch playing video-games.

The sight helped make his decision a lot clearer, he would _have_ to tell Mokuba. He wasn't a little kid anymore and certainly didn't appreciate being treated like one.

Seto shook his head with a sigh. The other problem was out of his control. Whatever happened now was in the hands of Bakura Ryou and Otogi Ryuuji, he simply didn't have the resources or knowledge of this world to help them.

He could only wish them luck.

* * *

**Footnotes**:  
1. Oooh, _Atemu _got mad...  
2. Waha, _fear _my connections to the Latin at the start of the chapters..  
3. The Junior Detectives are at it again.  
4. I figure that with Sirius out of the picture _someone _needs to maintain the Snape torture.  
5. Kaiba the Technician Whiz strikes again.

* * *

**AN**: _Lalala, _revision!

* * *

_Feed me lots of sugar..._


	8. The Order of the Phoenix

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Seven-  
**The Order of the Phoenix

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

Breakfast the following morning started out as a peaceful affair.

The vast quantity of Weasleys provided cheerful banter across the table and negated the necessity for Seto to actually communicate. Therefore, Seto spent an unusually good meal-time sipping his third cup of black coffee and decided he was in quite a good mood.

Content to listen to the cheerful drivel that dominated the kitchen table Seto found himself catching only snippets of what seemed like typical _family _conversations.

Seto wondered absently if he had had a proper family if _they _would bicker about the clothes he chose to wear or formally ask how the business was going. (**1**) Seto didn't care to think along those lines for very long – it was pointless anyway. Him and Mokuba were all the family he needed.

He watched with detached interest as the two Weasley twins showed Mokuba how one of their new inventions worked – he had discovered over the course of the time that they ran their own Wizarding Joke Shop which was quite the success. He had also noticed that Mrs Weasley didn't think very highly of their career choice, despite how profitable it was.

Dotted amongst the majority ruling of bright red 'Weasley' hair could be found the meager occupants of the house that were not part of the Weasley clan. Hermione could be found glowering darkly at Ron – the two had been squabbling all morning. Harry seemed somewhat quieter then usual and had a familiar brooding look about him – it was a look that Seto himself was fond of wearing and wasn't particularly happy about the boy having stolen it from him.

Remus Lupin could also be found tucked away at the end of the table, staring somewhat wistfully around at the bantering good humor that could be found with the family atmosphere. He had been silent for most of the morning and was currently staring into the bottom of his tea-cup which had been empty for almost twenty minutes.

It was when Arthur Weasley spoke in address to the werewolf in a quiet voice that Seto's attention was unconsciously drawn.

"Did you see that article in the Prophet Remus?"

Lupin shook his head mildly in a gesture for Arthur to continue.

"One of the boys that the Ministry are trialling escaped during the night. I got an owl from Perkins about it earlier – the entire building is in a right flap. Apparently the Aurors that were guarding him dissapeared! Just vanished – no-one has a clue what happened to them..." (**2**)

Remus Lupin glanced up from his tea-cup with mild surprise written across his face, "thats slightly suspicious isn't it? I thought that both of them were under maximum security – do they really have no idea what happened?"

"Not the foggiest. I expect Kingsley will know more when he arrives – he was on overnight duty. Apparently Fudge is _furious_ – didn't want it published in the Papers. I don't like the chances for the other boy getting off now – Fudge will want _something_ to show for the effort they've put in."

Seto turned his head sharply towards the pair and before he could control himself spoke up sharply, "do you know who it was that escaped?"

Set chuckled to himself as a vast majority of the tables eyes shot towards the elder Kaiba. Seto rarely spoke to any of the occupants of the house unless it was completely necessary, Molly Weasley had put it down to his 'shyness', the rest of the household knew better.

Arthur studied Seto with a vast amount of curiosity shining in his eyes, he cleared his throat obviously caught off-guard by the sudden question, before reaching for the paper that lay folded by his side and attempting to pronounce the name;

"R-Ry-Ryou Bakura," he declared with a slight frown marring his face, "odd name isn't it? Though they _did _say he was foreign.."

Seto felt a smile twinge the corner of his mouth and shook his head, forgetting the curious stares that rested on his face and mused aloud, "I should've known."

With that he picked up the tea-pot that was filled with coffee and refilled his mug. He heard a suppressed whoop from his side and cast a faintly amused glance in his brothers direction.

A sudden surge of triumph in the back of his mind caused him to roll his eyes.

'Careful – someone might think you actually care what happens to the _Tomb Robber,_' Seto interrupted with a raised eyebrow.

Set's presence drew closer into the fore-ground of his mind and in a decidedly good-humored tone retorted, 'it's about time that good-for-nothing did _something_ right. Besides, I noticed you didn't exactly cry with disappointment that he escaped the Wizards Justice.'

The corners of Seto's mouth threatened to curl into a familiar smirk and he hurriedly took a sip of his coffee to cover the unnecessary twitching.

'Well the _good-for-nothing _might have escaped but in case you didn't notice he happened to leave his 'partner-in-crime' behind.'

The spirit of the rod seemed somewhat perplexed at this before he shrugged his shoulders – something that Seto was sure that he shouldn't have been able to _feel. _

'Well, I doubt even the _Tomb Robber_ will be willing to abandon _that_ loud-mouth to the Wizards Mercy. We might just have an ally in breaking the boy out.'

Seto smirked to himself and shook his head before realizing the vast amount of stares that rested upon him. Remus Lupin was looking particularly suspicious.

Mokuba glanced around the table and decided to come to his brothers aid – it wasn't fair that they were all ganging up on him anyway.

"Well it's not like Bakura-kun wasn't _innocent_ in the first place" he snapped out before he was silenced by a quick hand over his mouth.

Seto had figured out why they were all staring at him.

"You know them don't you?" Lupin spoke up with faint realization dawning in his eyes.

Seto felt a grimace cross his face and nodded his head curtly.

"We've met."

Pointedly ignoring the uneasy stares that now rested on him Seto downed the rest of his coffee in one go and rose from his chair hastily. It wasn't like his personal life was any of their business anyway – he wasn't there by _choice._

Mokuba scrambled to his feet quickly – obviously not willing to be stared at with such intensity without his brothers moral support. They were stilled by Lupin's voice however as he eyed them sharply, "so – they're innocent? Both of them I mean?"

Seto let out a sharp bitter laugh and cast a dark stare in Remus' direction, "Innocent?" he spoke up humorlessly.

"_Hardly_. But do they deserve to be thrown away to rot in some jail on a trumped-up charge so that your so called, 'Ministry of Magic' can look good? No-one deserves _that_."

With that said Seto swept quickly out of the doorway with Mokuba quickly following.

The breakfast table wasn't quite so peaceful anymore.

* * *

Seto was beginning to wonder just when_ he_ got so righteous.

He wondered if he had absorbed some of the over-flow from the Pharaoh Atemu at some point, or maybe it was the simple fact that he was being forced into acting 'for the greater good.'

Seto didn't know – nor did he really want to. He just wanted his old life back.

Life had been relatively simple before he had gotten the Rod.

He had been the pseudo-villain who showed up now and again to create havoc for Yuugi Mutou and his friendship-gang and enjoyed every single _minute_ of it. Now he was reduced to being held captive in some dank hovel because a power-hungered magical politician wanted to lock him up so he could look good in the eyes of the public.

Seto _knew _that this was all Yuugi Mutou's fault somehow – he just hadn't found the connection yet.

He was beginning to rue the fact that he had actually been _happy _to discover Ryou Bakura's escape – the _old _Seto wouldn't have cared. The _old _Seto would have been to busy trying to find a new killer combination to defeat Yuugi and regain his former glory as World Champion.

He knew _exactly _what it was that had caused the shift in his thoughts and most unfortunately it was staring him straight in the eye. Now that he thought about it, Set looked distinctly annoyed for some reason.

Seto frowned at the spirit and Set scowled right back at him.

"You aren't listening, are you omote?"

Seto felt comprehension dawn upon him. Before he had lost focus Set had been explaining exactly _why _it was important that his reincarnation learned how to manipulate the shadows.

Needless to say, the speech hadn't been all that riveting.

"No – I'm not. Did you finally say something interesting?" Seto inquired lazily and was met with a narrowed stare.

"Maybe I _should _have tried to inhabit Malik's mind. At least _he_ had an interest in learning about Shadow Magic."

Seto let out a loud snort of uncharacteristic laughter and rolled his eyes, "true. But Ishtar was _also _a raging homicidal maniac. Then again – from what I've seen of your past that would have suited you wouldn't it?"

The spirit stiffened. Narrowing his eyes hawkishly at Seto he stalked towards him and leaned slowly over the arm-rest of the sofa to hiss in his ear, "I was _never _a homicidal maniac – though _you _might just turn me into one _omote_."

Dusting his hands off Set straightened and strolled around to stand once again before Seto and crossed his arms imperiously across his chest.

"From now on I am your Master – You are my pupil. You _will _listen to what I have to say..."

Set blinked abruptly as Seto rose from his seat, "hey! Where are you going? _Omote?_ Get back here you insolent little..."

Set's words trailed away as he watched his reincarnation saunter off towards the doorway and scowled irritably. It didn't take him long to decide on a _new_ course of action – if his reincarnation wouldn't sit still and listen to him he would just have to _make_ him.

With those thoughts in mind Set took a flying leap in Seto's direction and (with the element of surprise) succeeded in dragging his reincarnation down by his ankles. Having sufficiently grounded his reincarnation Set hurriedly crawled forwards and plonked himself down on Seto's back.

A decidedly ominous dark stare whirled around upon Set and through gritted teeth a growl of, "get off" made it through Seto's lips.

With a resolute decision to enforce his own stubborn nature, Set staunchly refused to budge and merely scowled right back at his reincarnation. "Now _now _omote – no need to get violent" the spirit chided as a flying arm looked to swat him away.

"Don't make me laugh" Seto sneered back in response, "_you're _the one who tackled _me _remember?"

At this the spirit clumsily suppressed a smug smile and waved his hand idly. With a lazy stare in Seto's scowling direction he added, "minor details, _omote, _minor details."

After shooting a distinctly withering glare in the spirits direction he retorted in an almost sulky tone that Set had seldom heard in his voice, "you know – you seem a _whole_ lot more solid then you should be."

Set raised an eyebrow at this and glanced at his hands idly, noting with absent fascination that they _did_ appear a lot less transparent then they had the first time he had materialized out of the rod.

He discarded this as a trivial detail and proceeded to prod his reincarnation lazily in the spine – smirking when the other squirmed and growled out, "don't _do _that."

The spirit however seemed to have grown complacent in his position - something that Seto was keen to take advantage of. Pushing himself abruptly upwards Set tumbled onto the floor with a satisfying thud. The phenomena went entirely unnoticed however as Seto promptly rose to his feet and smirked victoriously down at his disheartened other half.

"I take it this means you _don't _want to call me Master?" Set asked with a raised eyebrow.

Seto scoffed loudly under his breath.

Set decided to take that as a resounding '_yes!_'.

Seto watched idly as the spirit picked himself up off of the floor with all the dignity that he could muster and frowned in Seto's direction. That was precisely why he was altogether surprised when Set suddenly launched himself at him for the second time that day.

Both hit the ground with a thud and Seto glared viciously in the spirits direction.

"What was _that _for may I ask?" he spoke up with a narrowed stare.

Set was the picture of not-so-innocent innocence as he rolled his eyes and regained his feet, "I only _wanted _to see how adept you are at protecting yourself from sudden attacks. I must say, _omote, _I'm not very impressed."

Seto seemed to find this assessment highly unfair and sent a withering stare in Set's direction.

This was a significant enough distraction for the spirit to not notice the foot that promptly hooked his ankles and brought him crashing into a less-then-graceful landing on his backside – or so he would later claim.

The scene that Severus Snape and Remus Lupin walked in on was perhaps one of the strangest they had seen in a very long time. Seeing two near-identical versions of Seto Kaiba trying to throttle each other was among other things, reasonably alarming. The fact that one of them was semi-transparent just added to the extreme oddness of the situation.

When Lupin cleared his throat loudly both of the Kaiba-Lookalikes whipped their heads around to stare in surprise at the pair.

One swore violently, the other merely glared.

Severus Snape smirked widely to himself and spoke up silkily, "I think you have some explaining to do.."

* * *

Seto was furious.

Set was furious.

Severus Snape was having the time of his life.

Remus Lupin was mildly perplexed – or at least doing a good job of looking it.

After all, it wasn't everyday that you found someone trying to strangle their mirror image – at least, it wasn't if you _weren't_ living with the Weasley Twins.

It had taken a lot of coaxing to stop the Spirit of the Rod from simply disappearing back into the item and refusing to come out again. Seto had snidely told Set that he'd already blown his cover anyway and that _he _wasn't going to try and fix the mistake.

Set had grumpily maintained that it wasn't his fault that Mokuba had failed to keep the wizards occupied.

Mokuba had snappily retorted that he couldn't be expected to keep watch over _every single person _in the house and that Set should have been more careful.

Seto was more then happy to go along with Mokuba's version.

Severus Snape raised an eyebrow slowly as he proceeded to attempt to stare down the two Seto-Lookalikes and Mokuba.

"_Well?_ I'm waiting for an explanation.." he drawled out narrowing his eyes at the trio.

Set turned his eyes sharply upon Seto at the precise same time that Mokuba did. Set felt a small tug of his lips – it appeared that him and the younger Kaiba had finally agreed upon something.

Seto grumbled beneath his breath for several moments before declaring smoothly, "this is my incarnation.. Set."

Lupin let out a spluttering cough and pounded himself on the back for a good ten seconds before lifting his head to stare between the pair with confusion, "your _what _sorry?"

The vein above Seto's right eyebrow began to throb ominously as he combed his fingers through his hair. "My -" he glanced towards Set, suddenly lacking the necessary word to describe _what_ Set was.

The spirit seemed to take this as his cue to interrupt and retorted with surprising calm, "I am his past self."

To the spirit this seemed a perfectly logical answer to the question - and perhaps to those familiar with the story of the Sennen Items and their current holders it probably would have been. But unfortunately neither Severus Snape or Remus Lupin had ever heard of the Sennen Items (let alone their _owners_) and were therefore slightly baffled by the answer.

"His _past _self?" Snape scoffed out sounding just a tad disbelieving.

"Yes his past self" Mokuba snapped abruptly – obviously having decided that he'd been ignored for far too long.

Remus seemed to mull the answer over in his mind for several moments before he chose to ask a question of his own, somewhat more tactfully worded then Snape's own.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

Seto rubbed at his forehead ruefully and wondered just _what _he had done to deserve this. It probably had something to do with all the trouble he had caused for Yuugi and his friends – or, as was a more appealing answer it was all _Set's _fault.

"My past self," he growled out.

"The former High Priest of Kemet under the rule of the Pharaoh Atemu -"

At this Set chose to interrupt with a resolute, "_Ankh Udja Seneb!_"(**3**)

Seto glared darkly at the spirit before continuing as though he hadn't been interrupted, " - o_wner_ of the Sennen Rod and altogether bane of my bloody existence."

Remus Lupin's lips formed a faint, "oh" and he glanced towards Snape.

Set however gave a wounded look in his reincarnations direction and mumbled out sulkily, "am I _really _the bane of your existence?"

The vein above Seto's eyebrow throbbed particularly violently.

"No. I was wrong - Yuugi Mutou _already_ holds that position."

A faintly pleased expression kindled in Set's eyes before he turned them back upon the two wizards who were now regarding the three of them shrewdly. Snape had a slightly haughty, disbelieving look about them that seemed faintly familiar to Seto.

"Are you trying to tell us that this _thing_" with that a violent gesture in Set's direction was made, "is the spirit of your _past self _as a Priest from Ancient Egypt?"

Seto raised an eyebrow.

"Yes – that's exactly what I'm trying to tell you."

Snape gave a piercing glance over the pair of them before hastening to include Mokuba when the boy swelled with indignation and raised an eyebrow.

Lupin decided it was about time for him to intervene and spoke up finally.

"I think it's about time you told us exactly what it is that you know Mister Kaiba."

* * *

The story of the Sennen Items and their holders was told to the best of Seto's ability – the fact that the majority of the information that he had referred to the memory banks of Set was a slight hindrance as what the wizards seemed most interested in were the other current item holders.

What had really sparked their attention however was when Seto had removed the Sennen Rod from his pocket to let them see it.

There was nothing more impressive then something made of solid gold after all.

When the story had come to a close Mokuba had already drifted off into a daze and begun to snore lightly. This had been a great source of amusement for Set who had proceeded to poke the boy in the head and watch him snort and flail his arms around with a deranged smile in place.

By the time the Wizards had had time enough to drink in the information Set had decided that it was _his _turn to interrogate them.

Needless to say the Wizards were more then surprised when the spirit wheeled on them with a narrow stare and barked out a question in a suitably intimidating tone, "_what is your purpose here?_"

Seto blinked as he faintly remembered the question coming from his _own _mouth but decided to let it slide. After all – the confusion on Severus Snape's face was well worth it.

Lupin answered with a slightly raised eyebrow, "our _purpose _is to defeat Voldemort."

Set raised an eyebrow and inspected him through narrowed eyes, " - and what is the purpose of this household. I know it's not a regular home."

At this Remus Lupin gave a faint smile and gave a quick look in Snape's direction.

"This is the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix - " his lips curled into what Seto would soon find to be an ominous expression.

" - and I have to say that it's about time you asked."

* * *

Later that evening Seto Kaiba once again found himself in the company of Albus Dumbledore.

It had become apparent that Remus Lupin and Severus Snape hadn't wasted any time in relaying the information they had discovered about Seto and Set back to the dotty old man.

Over the course of the afternoon all of the mysteries that surrounded the strange house that Seto had been occupying had been lifted.

The house was home to a secret society known to it's members as 'The Order of the Phoenix' which Seto had taken to be a rather batman-esque outfit. Apparently they were the front-line that were working against the revived Dark Lord and it had become rather obvious to Seto Kaiba that they were expecting him to join them.

Seto Kaiba was less then thrilled.

He had bluntly stated that he was _already _being gunned for by their god-forsaken government and didn't see any reason why he should put himself in any _further _danger by openly beginning an assault by a second deadly force in the Wizarding World.

Albus Dumbledore had not been dissuaded.

Seto was beginning to get the feeling that he didn't really have much of a choice in the matter – it had become blatant that with the wizards discovery of the power that he could, in theory, wield he would make a fine edition to their cause.

Set seemed to be of the same mind as his reincarnation – not that that had stopped him from enthusiastically asking as many questions about the operations as he could.

"We are currently in the process of tailing known servants of Voldemort. His discovery of our spy has proven to make it somewhat more difficult then before – but we have also managed to recruit several more members to the order. - And from what Severus learned _before_ he was discovered it appeared that Voldemort was looking into some sort of_ weapon_ that had it's origins in Egypt. It was something about the discovery of a tablet.."

Dumbledore's eyes lifted to inspect Seto's carefully. He felt a humorless smile touch his lips and realized suddenly just why his story had interested the Wizards so greatly, he was obviously the little spark of information that they had been waiting for.

"Well Mister Kaiba – it is of course your choice. But are you willing to join us?"(**4**)

Seto paused and glanced around towards Set – he knew that the decision had already been made long before Dumbledore had even asked the question. Even if he did refuse to help the Order of the Phoenix he knew_ far_ too much to be allowed to simply walk away – they did like to complicate things.

Seto felt a sigh escape his lips and glanced up from beneath the thick hair that threatened to obscure his dark eyes. They hardened visibly as a small smile curled across his lips. The Wizards wouldn't get his assistance_ easily_ – he would make sure of that.

"Yes – but first I have a few _conditions_."

Seto Kaiba hadn't been named the businessman of the decade for nothing.

* * *

Harry Potter was startled the next morning when he awoke to find his door thrown open by the last person in the world he had expected. He heard Ron's sleepy garble and fixed his glasses over his eyes to stare in confusion at the impressive sight that a decidedly _smug _looking Seto Kaiba made in the doorway of his bedroom.

"Rise and shine" was the mocking sneer that escaped the boys lips as he leaned against the door frame looking more then pleased with himself.

"_We _are going out."

Harry exchanged a long and confused look with Ron as Seto Kaiba turned promptly on his heel and stalked off back down the hallway, his expensive-looking white leather trench coat billowing out behind him at an unnatural angle.

"Did he just say _we?_" Ron spoke up slowly, in the process of yawning and trying to look impressively confused.

"Yeah. I think he did."

Silence hung in the air between them for some time, as though they had been struck by an odd train of thought.

"Harry – do _you_ have any idea how he manages to get his clothes to do that _billowy _thing when he walks?"

Harry Potter seemed to ponder this for several moments before he shook his head in silent resolution.

"Not a bloody clue mate."

* * *

**Footnotes:  
**1. For those that were wondering – yes, that was a reference to Molly Weasley's apparent dislike for Bill's taste in clothing – and hairstyles.  
2. Someone, somewhere just got a few donations to their doll collection..  
3. This means, 'Life, Prosperity and Health' and was often attached to the end when someone addressed someone of the Royal family in Ancient Egypt.  
4. Crafty little buggers were planning it all along...

* * *

**AN**: Ugh. I hate this chapter with a passion – useless piece of snot that it is. -hisses at it- It took me forever to write and I'm _still _not satisfied with it. But none-the-less, I point blank refuse to rewrite this so it will have to do – the only upside is that the _next _chapter promises to be a lot more fun to write. Hopefully it wasn't to disappointing.

* * *

_Skittles!_


	9. Diagon Alley

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Eight-  
**Diagon Alley

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

Diagon Alley had seen a fair share of strange characters in its day – apparently it came with the territory.

Bustling with Goblins, Hags, Vampires, Witches and Wizards (_with a healthy dose of all the crooks of the underworld mixed in for good measure_) it was the throbbing heart of the London Wizarding Community.

However, from the way that the shoppers stopped to stare at _their_ group one might have thought that they were the strangest bunch of people on earth. The more likely scenario being that they had merely seen Seto Kaiba.

To the shoppers credit Seto hadn't gone out of his way to be unremarkable. His flashiest, most expensive white leather trench coat billowing out behind him was a stark contrast to the terribly _black _ensemble beneath. Wrapped in belts and silver-buckles he was hardly a sight that faded into the background. (**1**)

He had picked this outfit for the very _same_ reason that he had worn it during Battle City – to be _noticed_.

The Weasley's had quickly split away from him – not that he blamed them. It wasn't high on their priority list to be seen escorting a fugitive of the Ministry of Magic – at least, not if they didn't want to follow the path of Otogi Ryuuji.

The Wizards didn't seem particularly fond of Azkaban. (**2**)

Smirking his most infamous smirk at the staring shoppers he twirled the Sennen Ron lazily between his fingers and flashed a dangerous stare around himself.

'You're shameless – you know that don't you omote?' Set interjected with laughter tickling his voice.

'They're asking for it' Seto responded lazily before turning his stare on Mokuba with a half-smile.

Mokuba was far too used to his brothers antics to notice and had been staring with avid curiosity at the sights around him.

"Hey nii-sama! Look at _that_ - "

Seto followed his brothers pointed finger to a store window which bore the legend, 'Quality Quidditch Supplies' and turned back to his brother who was grinning wickedly.

"Witches _do _ride broomsticks!"

Set snorted loudly in his head and Seto raised an eyebrow faintly before commenting absently, "then maybe you should stop torturing that Weasley Girl – she might turn you into a _toad_."

Mokuba wrinkled his nose and caught hold of Seto's hand. The boy then proceeded to excitedly drag him in the direction of the store window.

Standing in front of the display Seto was able to read the plaque that was propped against a sleek broomstick that was hovering in mid-air in a display case.

Those who had been examining the broomstick with varying degrees of excitement cast nervous looks in his direction before backing away muttering to each other nervously.

Seto smirked.

'Everything going to _plan_ then omote?' the spirit drawled lazily.

'Of course' Seto responded with a roll of his eyes before leaning forwards to read the plaque which soon proved to be an advertisement;

_**THE FIRE-STORM**_

'Noted by '_Which Broomstick?_' as the next step up into broomstick heaven, this new-model successor of 'The Firebolt' is equipped with the newest developments in Racing Technology. With an aerodynamic handle of the finest oak (_made from the legendary woods of Kilmarnock, Scotland) _treated with a liquid-diamond polish and complete with its own registration number is the next step up for the serious Quidditch player. Each twig has been specifically selected for the single goal of drag-free perfection and has been measured to reach 0-200 k/ph in ten seconds. Complete with an attached fall-proof wand holder and security charm for protection the Firestorm is the new perfection in racing brooms.'

**Price on Request**(**3**)

Seto turned his gaze towards Mokuba to see the boy was ogling the broomstick with apparent fascination. When his head turned slowly towards Seto with the beginning of a pleading stare a grimace touched the older Kaiba's face. Seto narrowed his eyes and declared a definite, "_no!_"

Mokuba's eyes clouded with a shimmer of crocodile tears and he proceeded to throw a very convincing pout in his brothers direction – anyone might have thought he was five years old. "I didn't even _say _anything!"

Seto raised an eyebrow and shook his head with a roll of his eyes, "you didn't have to – and the answer is _still _no."

"But _Seto._"

The elder Kaiba grabbed his brother by the arm and began to stroll off down the alley - blatantly ignoring the protesting of Mokuba who was claiming, "at least let me _look _at it some more..."

"Plenty of time for that later – at the moment I have to make sure that people see me."

Mokuba scowled up at him and huffed out loudly, "_me, me, me – _you sound an awful lot like Otogi-kun, 'nii-sama."

The menacing stare that the younger Kaiba received in response was met with uneasy laughter and Mokuba added weakly, " - in a _good_ way?"

Amused snickering rumbled in Seto's ear and he nearly jumped when he found Set strolling along beside them – skipping nimbly around the few shoppers that _weren't _giving the two Kaiba's a wide berth.

Seto paused when the spirit halted beside a store window and raised an eyebrow in Set's direction.

"The Wizards haven't wasted any time in splashing your face into the public eye have they _omote?_"

Watching as Set tapped a finger against the glass with idle fascination Seto strolled back down the alleyway to get a better look. On closer inspection he found the window was filled with what appeared to be 'wanted' posters.

Surely enough a moving photograph of himself was splashed across one of the posters. Amusement fluttering across his lips Seto lent closer to inspect it – Photo-Seto was scowling down at them with a distinctly haughty expression.

Glancing at the caption beneath his photograph a smirk filtered across his lips.

**Have you seen this man?**

The Ministry of Magic issues the following warning that the person(s) pictured above are wanted for questioning. He is an elusive fugitive who is known to be highly dangerous – if seen we advise extreme caution and on no means are you to approach him. Contact the Ministry of Magic as soon as possible upon a sighting.

_Thank you for your assistance._

Resisting the laughter that threatened to boil out of his lips Seto turned his eyes onto the similar posters that surrounded his own – it was no wonder that Dumbledore hadn't wanted him to leave the Order Headquarters. It appeared that these posters had been plastered all over the alley.

Seto hadn't budged in his demand however – it was important for him to draw attention away from Bakura Ryou if the boy was to elude capture. It was also a very indirect way of letting the Tomb Robber know that he was around – '_The Daily Prophet_' had probably never served a better purpose.

Lazily tracing a finger over the cold glass that covered the photo of the grinning Tomb Robber he eyed it with vague amusement – right next to Bakura Ryou was the mugshot of the Pharaoh himself. The others were unfamiliar, a sinister looking bunch of twisted faces that leered down at him with bored expressions. (**4**)

Seto shook his head and turned away from the window to eye Set with a distinctly disinterested expression. " - And why exactly have you decided to _grace _us with your presence?"

At this Set gave a half-grin in Seto's direction and swept over to throw an arm and his reincarnations shoulders. "_Because _my dear reincarnation, that Rod is an awfully stuffy place to spend your time and I would much rather spend it with you and the little snot."

Mokuba blanched and cast a venomous glare in Set's direction.

The spirit snickered and amended himself, "- _sorry_. Mokuba."

Brushing the spirits hand off of his shoulder Seto pulled a face and strolled away down the alley. Mokuba smirked at Set, "you know. If you just _happened _to mention to Seto about that broomstick we saw back there – I wouldn't hold it against you, you know?"

Set smirked to himself and raised an eyebrow ominously, "what's in it for me?"

Mokuba seemed to seriously ponder this for several moments before he grinned at the spirit and leaned forwards in a conspiring fashion, glancing shiftily in all directions before muttering, "what is it that you're interested in?"

Mokuba let out a yelp as he was grabbed roughly by the arm and turned to glare darkly in his brothers direction.

"It's _not _going to happen."

"But 'nii-sama!"

Seto scoffed under his breath and shot a sharp look in Set's direction. The spirit strode after them with a faint grin on his face before clapping an arm back across his reincarnations shoulders, "_so _where are we going?"

* * *

The morning passed by quickly – Seto had already caught sight of at least ten wanted posters bearing his photograph and was starting to get slightly suspicious at the lack of activity around the alleyway. He had thought that someone would have contacted the Ministry of Magic by now – either that or the Ministry of Magic was even more incompetent then the Domino Police Force.

Seto wasn't going to bet on the second option – he had never had the opportunity to meet _anyone _with the same lack of brain capacity as the Domino Police Force - and that was saying something.

After all, Seto knew Jounouchi Katsuya.

A quiet glance was spared in Set's direction to find him staring around himself with a mildly perplexed expression on his face. "I think somebody is following us omote" he commented suddenly.

Despite Seto's inherent mistrust in the competency of other life-forms he had come to trust the judgment of the spirit of the Rod – he had the somewhat eerie knack of being _right_ a great deal of the time.

Glancing towards Mokuba somewhat nervously he found the boy was peering at some point up the road – Seto had caught sight of a building marked with the sign, '_Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes._'

Mokuba eyed the sign hawkishly before wheeling around on his brother, "Seto can we go and -"

"You go on ahead. I've got something to take care of – just make sure you don't leave the store alright."

Mokuba stared at him with a faint frown marring his face. To their surprise however he didn't budge an inch but inspected Seto with a hawk-like stare that was as sharp as any that Severus Snape could have produced.

"What's wrong?" he demanded suddenly.

"It's nothing kid – just, you go on ahead."

"_Seto_" Mokuba snapped out with a narrowing stare.

"Trust me" the elder Kaiba spoke up sharply leaving no room for discussion.

With a furrowed brow Mokuba stalked up the alleyway before breaking into a run, Seto watched him until he had opened the doorway and disappeared inside of it before he turned back to Set with a slight frown.

"Do you know how many there are?" he spoke up quietly, giving a quick once-over of the ground around them with a intense stare.

"Only one I believe" the spirit replied smoothly.

"Good – I think its about time that we showed these Wizards just _who_ they're dealing with."

A smirk curled across Set's lips and his eyes smoldered like glowing coals, "I'm glad that you agree omote. We can't let the Pharaoh and the Tomb Robber have all the fun now can we?"

The pair walked swiftly side-by-side up the alleyway before turning sharply into a small alcove between two stores and turning about-face to wait. Seto's fingers twisted the Sennen Rod between them yet didn't move it from his waist-band just yet – he would wait and see what kind of opponent it was he was facing first.

It wasn't long before their opponent swaggered into the entrance of the alcove.

Seto's immediate thought was that he was _large. _Not large in a _giant _type way, nor large in a Santa Clause _pot-belly_ kind of way. He quite simply was the kind of _large _that gave you recollections of the biggest bully in school.

His muscles were large and superficial in a pro-wrestler kind of way, clad in what Seto deemed as _biker-ware_. His lank, extremely-thick bleached-blond hair was pulled back from his face in a lazy ponytail and a broad smile had encountered his heavy jaw.

"It seems we _finally_ get to meet, Seto Kaiba," he commented aloud with the air of a snake that had been slithering around its prey for a rather long time and had now chosen to attack.

"I'm afraid that I don't share your enthusiasm for the joyous occasion" Seto replied flatly.

Seto felt rather then saw Set retreat into his mind.

The large smile on the other mans face stretched even more so and he gave a laugh, "where are my _manners _I haven't introduced myself. The name is Chad, Chad Valiant - "

The man paused when Seto choked loudly.

With a somewhat affronted glare the other man continued, " - renowned Bounty Hunter and the last person you're ever going to see in your free life."

Seto wondered absently if he had stumbled into an exceedingly _cheesy_ adult film.(**5**)

"Since you already seem to know so much about me you'll have to excuse the lack of a formal introduction" he spoke up loftily, his feet shifting over the grimy concrete slowly.

The smile on the others thick-set face resurfaced and he performed a mocking bow, "but of course Mister Kaiba. I'm sure the money I'll get when I drag you into the ministry will more then make up for it."

Seto was ready when the man lunged for him, he stepped neatly aside of the flying fist and pivoted on his feet to face him again. He hadn't anticipated the speed with which the other man had recovered however and was met with an exceedingly _painful _fist in his ribs.

It appeared that those bulky muscles packed a lot of power.

With the audible crunch Seto grimaced and stumbled backwards, an arm curled around his torso as searing pain laced up his rib-cage. 'Careful omote, he's not as slow as he looks' Set voiced sharply in his head and Seto grimaced.

'I figured.'

"Fancy footwork won't _help_ you MisterKaiba."

With a blazing stare Seto met the other mans eyes – _nobody _taunted Seto Kaiba.

He was ready for the next move the man made, his upper body swung out of the elbows path and Seto drove his knee sharply upwards. A grunt of pain escaped the bounty hunters lips as he stumbled away with a hand rubbing his gut with a grimace.

It only took a second for Seto to realize what the other man was doing before his fingers stretched hurriedly for the Sennen Rod. He dove aside when the first spell went flying – it struck the ground where he had been standing with a sharp crack.

The strange sensation that rolled through him immediately after was completely foreign to him. Seto didn't have any idea what it was that was happening to him.

The rod had begun to glow fiercely in his hands and suddenly Set was neither in his _mind_ or in _spirit form_. He didn't know where the spirit of the Rod ended and where _he_ began.

Their presences seemed to meld into one moving being in _shared_ control of a single body. They moved with blinding _power _in their veins and Seto suddenly recognized the tingle of magic in the air.

But this was nothing like the magic that the Wizard had used upon _him_.

It was thick and dark and smoldering with indignation. It roared and burned and curled around his limbs begging to do _his _bidding. This magic was older then anything Seto knew, it was older then the city around him, older then the very ground he walked on. This was _ancient _and _powerful. _

The shadows curled and quivered at his boots, inky tresses melding around him lovingly. He saw the horror upon the bounty hunters face and his mouth formed a cold smirk that seemed to echo some unknown hatred towards this man, this was _justice _in his fingertips. Raw, thick and powerful _justice. _

The shadows exploded around him and snared the entire alcove in darkness and amidst it the bounty hunter was _trembling _like a rabbit frozen in the headlights. His voice stuttered and squeaked and chattered, his heavy jaw thudding as he stared with confused eyes around himself. It was _dark _and _cold _and he knew that he didn't want to stay here.

"What _are _you?" he hissed suddenly, his voice pitching high and low without control.

Seto smirked or rather Set did, perhaps it was both of them. Neither of them really knew.

"_I _am the last person you are ever going to see in your free life" he purred in response.

The adrenaline in his veins had swelled into his mind and everything was a pleasant buzzing blur.

He heard the screams of the man when the shadows surged upon him – agonizing screams that rose and fell and became muffled moans of utter despair. The darkness swelled and fed upon the bounty hunter mercilessly and the power in Seto's being dwindled and dropped away.

He was Seto and Set was Set.

The strange connection they had forged had splintered away and the shadows retreated hastily back into their corners, swirling into the shade of the building and the darkness spread by a barrel.

There was only a shell of a man trembling on the ground, weeping and mumbling into his folded arms.

Strength seeped from Seto's body and blood splattered upon the grimy concrete, his knees hit the ground with a solid thud and his limbs trembled.

He didn't know what had happened.

The arms that snuck around him went unchecked.

"There he is!"

"_'Nii-sama!_ What's wrong? What happened?"

Fred and George Weasley hurriedly followed as Mokuba flew to his brothers side. Unlike _him _they _had_ noticed the large man that was trembling and mumbling to himself in a distracted fashion.

"Oi! Kaiba – C'mon snap out of it" Fred spoke up quickly snapping his fingers in front of Seto's face.

He fell gracelessly onto his backside when he caught sight of the strange _double _that was wrapped around Seto's waist.

"Blimey! What the -"

George rolled his eyes and extended a hand to his twin with a shake of his head.

"No time for questions you git – or did you happen to forget the _large mob of Aurors_ that are currently scouring the streets for him?"

Without a second thought the pair each seized one of Seto's arms and hoisted him to his feet, ignoring the fact that Set seemed less then happy for them to do so. Mokuba seized hold of the spirits hand and dragged him along with the pair that were all but _running _back down the street towards their shop in an attempt to remain unnoticed.

"Ugh. He could stand to lose a few pounds you know" Fred grunted out as the pair reached their doorstep.

"He's as skinny as a rake – _you're _just a lazy git" George retorted sharply as they hoisted Seto through the cluttered aisles stocked with various practical jokes towards the store-room.

"Let's just hope that the Aurors don't decide to start searching shops" Fred retorted with a grimace as they set him down against a wall.

Silence took over as the pair shared nervous glances before turning towards the door as Mokuba burst through it with a hand attached to the look-alike that had previously been attached to Seto on his hand.

Fred and George had a double-take as they realized that he was not only near _identical _to Seto but that he was somewhat – _transparent_. "Not the time to ask" George reminded his twin with a half-reprimanding stare and watched as the strange dopple-ganger swooped over to inspect Seto with a narrowed stare.

Mokuba wasn't slow to follow.

"What _happened?_" he growled in Set's direction with an accusing stare.

The spirit seemed to hesitate as he pressed a hand against his reincarnations forehead before he began to talk, "we were being followed" he muttered out quickly.

Mokuba narrowed his eyes sharply and cocked his head to the side impatiently, " - _and_?"

"It was a bounty hunter – he attacked and Seto got hurt. Then he attacked again and Seto hurt him – so he pulled out his magical-stick and started firing magic at him. I tried to take over and something – _happened_."

Set stared hard at the buckles on Seto's trench coat with a faint frown carving into his lips.

"He – _We_ summoned the shadows."

Mokuba's eyebrows rose and his eyes grew very round.

"You – you summoned the _shadow realm?_" he whispered out faintly.

"What's the -"

George elbowed Fred violently in the ribs and hissed, "_not now._"

"What about Seto? What's wrong with him?" Mokuba spoke up with traces of panic beginning to enter his voice.

"He's just – exhausted. Shadow Magic takes a lot of strength" Set replied quietly and settled down beside his reincarnation against the wall.

"He just needs to rest."

* * *

Seto Kaiba scowled tiredly at the livid expression that had shaped Severus Snape's hawk-like face before turning a similar look upon the Weasley twins.

"What in the _hell _did you think you were doing?" the Wizard hissed.

Snape's hands were trembling as dark eyes swept over Seto's face.

"Are you _trying _to get us all locked up in Azkaban? The Daily Prophet will be all over it! Every Auror in _London _will be scouring the streets for you – _What did you think you were doing?_"

A distasteful sneer touched upon Seto's lips as he surveyed the man before him with tired irritation – Snape's anger seemed to implode on itself as he took a deep breath.

"Are you _trying _to turn the eyes of the Wizarding Community onto you?"

Set apparently thought that the Potions Master should be put out of his rampaging misery and shook his head before replying, "that's _precisely _what he was doing."

Snape visibly flinched at the spirits sudden words – he hadn't seen him standing behind Seto.

"Why (_may I ask) _did you do an _idiotic _thing like that?"

Seto rolled his eyes as though the answer should have been obvious.

"A _diversion. _If that Ministry of yours think they have a lead on _my _whereabouts they will shift their focus off of the Tomb Robber and the Pharaoh. That – and its a useful way to let the Tomb Robber know where I am."

Snape's sharp eyes regarded him closely for several moments, noticing just how_ pale_ the boy looked before a sardonic smile twisted across his lips, "I never picked _you _for the hero-type."

Seto felt his mouth relax into a familiar smirk and replied smoothly, "neither did I."

"I assume that you've paraded around quite enough now?" was the cool response from the Potions Master.

A humorless laugh rolled up Seto's throat as he glanced sharply towards the shop window. "If I go out again they'll lynch-mob me – despite the '_highly dangerous_' warnings."

Set chose that moment to comment absently, "I think that they're gathering torches and pitchforks to mob us with..."

Seto rolled his eyes.

"I take that to mean you think we should leave then?" he inquired with a sharp stare in the spirits direction.

"Precisely omote. Unless that starch-ware you're so fond of is _inflammable_ of course..."

Snape glanced sharply between the two of him before pointedly ignoring the Weasley twins and questioning, "I assume that you were brought here by the Weasley's?"

Mokuba crossed his arms stoutly over his chest and piped up, "they're getting 'School Supplies'. Seems like a weird place to buy _books _to me."

Snape's dark look between the two Kaiba's didn't go unnoticed – mostly because he didn't _bother _to hide the grimace that stained his face abruptly afterward. "I am more then glad that I'll never have _either_ of youin my classroom."

Mokuba scowled back fiercely and looking remarkably like his brother retorted, "from what _I've _heard I'm glad that I'll never have to _be _in your classroom."

With a visible sneer in the younger Kaiba's direction Severus Snape rubbed at his temples.

It was only midday and he _already _had a headache.

* * *

"Oh thank _goodness._"

A pair of arms crushed Seto and Mokuba before they had a chance to adjust to their new surroundings – let _alone _try and escape. Seto let out a hiss of pain and growled out, "_get off!_"

When he was abruptly released his hand moved gingerly to his rib-cage and Mokuba shuffled hurriedly backwards to escape the fury of another _Molly Weasley _hug. Almost immediately Set reappeared from the Rod and placed a hand firmly on Seto's shoulder.

"_You _are going to rest omote" he declared sharply.

Seto scowled in the spirits general direction but didn't put up any arguments – his ribs were already protesting violently against his merely _standing. _

"We didn't know what had happened to you! - And then all of those Aurors started prowling around the place and we didn't have time to try and find you – Oh _thank goodness _you're alright! I was so sure that you were captured or _worse_."

Ignoring Mrs Weasley's continued wailing Set promptly began to steer Seto out of the kitchen with a roll of his eyes. Mokuba made a hasty retreat and aimed to follow them – _he _didn't want to get caught in another of Mrs Weasley's death-grips.

"We were lucky today omote. Not many people who lose control of the Shadows live to tell about it" Set was muttering as they took the staircase on.

Seto for once in his life was more then happy to lean against the spirit to help himself up the staircase. His ribs grated sharply with every-step and his legs felt heavier then stone.

"If this is _lucky _then I don't even _want _to know what _unlucky _feels like" Seto grumbled back and the spirit rolled his eyes promptly.

"I _told _you there were reasons for learning Shadow Magic? But did you listen to me? _No_. This problem was of your own doing omote."

"No need to sound so smug" Seto grumbled back as the spirit hid a grin.

"Smug omote? _Me?_"

Seto groaned.

They reached the top of the flight of stairs with a relieved grimace from Seto and shuffled down the hallway towards Seto and Mokuba's shared room.

They moved in silence as they reached his room – Seto shrugging off his trench coat and slipping off his boots before sinking back into his mattress with a pained grimace. Set lazily dragged the covers from the end of the bed and pulled them over Seto who pulled a face at him that was much akin to amusement.

"You're turning into a Mrs Weasley" he mused aloud.

The look of revulsion on Set's face with enough to draw laughter from Seto's lips – laughter which was hurriedly cut off by a hiss of pain as he grabbed at his ribs.

For a few seconds Set shifted somewhat uncomfortably on his feet before Seto, in a rare moment of sincerity noted aloud, "I guess that you were right. I suppose that I _do _need to learn shadow magic – the people who are after us won't hold back from using _their _magic."

Set gave a faint grin and drawled aloud, "_nekhtet!_"(**6**)

Seto rolled his eyes and grimaced in the spirits direction.

"Does this mean that you want to be my student?" Set inquired carefully.

He inspected Seto's face through lowered lashes and fought to keep his expression neutral as his reincarnation paused in thought.

"I suppose it does" Seto murmured back quietly.

The grin that wormed its way onto Set's face was obvious as he suppressed the urge to cry, '_nekhtet_' again. It dropped away abruptly however and was replaced with a sly fox-like grin and a smoldering dark stare, "so omote, reconsidered calling me '_Master_?'"

Seto snorted with a roll of his eyes and his eyebrow twitched ominously, "not a hope in hell."

Set faked a look of hurt before shrugging and announcing, "you should rest omote."

It didn't take long for Seto to fall asleep – it appeared that summoning the Shadow Realm had taken even more out of him then Set had realized. With a faint smile Set brushed his fingertips over Seto's forehead and murmured a quiet, "_em hotep._" (**7**)

With that he retreated to perch lazily upon Mokuba's bed and leaned against the wall with a triumphant smirk touching upon his lips as he leaned his head back to brush against the shabby wallpaper.

His eyes fixed upon his reincarnation Set felt a sense of triumph envelop his body – reigniting a _millenia _old rivalry that he had yet to forget.

Take _that _Mahaado.(**8**)

**

* * *

Footnotes:  
1. Black and White are the most stimulating colors for the eyes – areas of high contrast and all that. _See_ the rubbish you learn when you take Art History as a subject?  
2. Yup – Otogi-kun got shafted off to Azkaban. By my figuring, even _without _the Dementors it'd still be a pretty dismal place.  
3. Oh c'mon! It's been _three _years since they put out the Firebolt – you'd have thought that a new model would be out by now wouldn't you... I really _hate_ the name 'Firestorm' by the way..  
4. Mmhmm, the Deatheaters that escaped in Book 5. The Ministry aren't all that wonderful at tracking people down are they?  
5. C'mon! Chad Valiant – does that not just _scream _Porn-Star to you?  
6. Basically the Ancient Egyptian equivalent of '_BOOYA_!'  
7. Translates to, "In Peace" - was sometimes used as a greeting by the Ancient Egyptians in the form, "ii-wy em hotep."  
8. Set finally got his apprentice.**1. Black and White are the most stimulating colors for the eyes – areas of high contrast and all that. the rubbish you learn when you take Art History as a subject?2. Yup – Otogi-kun got shafted off to Azkaban. By my figuring, even the Dementors it'd still be a pretty dismal place.3. Oh c'mon! It's been years since they put out the Firebolt – you'd have thought that a new model would be out by now wouldn't you... I really the name 'Firestorm' by the way..4. Mmhmm, the Deatheaters that escaped in Book 5. The Ministry aren't all that wonderful at tracking people down are they?5. C'mon! Chad Valiant – does that not just Porn-Star to you?6. Basically the Ancient Egyptian equivalent of '!'7. Translates to, "In Peace" - was sometimes used as a greeting by the Ancient Egyptians in the form, "ii-wy em hotep."8. Set finally got his apprentice.

* * *

**AN: **Despite the amount of action that I was looking forward to in this chapter it still took me forever to write it! I had about twenty different versions of this thing typed up that I ended up scratching and rewording and cutting and finally settled on this version. The whole bounty-hunter thing got cut at some point – then I decided to rewrite it. I just couldn't leave poor Chad out – he needed his moment in the spotlight. _Plus_ it enforces the need for Set to pass on his wily-ways of the Shadows.

* * *

_Badabababa... I'm Lovin' It._


	10. Educational Etiquette

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Nine-  
**Educational Etiquette

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

Mornings, Seto had decided, were his least favorite time of the day.

He had come to this conclusion while seated at the breakfast table the morning after his trip to Diagon Alley. The concept had been sparked when he discovered the first of _many_ surprises that were to come to his attention that morning.

Seto Kaiba had been known to hate a lot of things – _surprises_ had recently made it into the top twenty.

The first indication that something wasn't quite right that morning was when Mrs Weasley (in a decidedly brisk and grumpy mood), had deposited his mornings coffee with a clunk on the table before him and swept off without so much as a salutation. Seto had figured that her usual motherly glow had diminished if not extinguished following his less then warm reception of it the day previous.

When the caffeine began to fuse into his bloodstream it became quickly apparent that the frosty stares Mrs Weasley was broadcasting were not directed at _him, _but rather at Remus Lupin. Or, to be precise, Remus Lupin and the pile of musty, moth-eaten rags beside him.

The moth-eaten rags that Seto was sure he had just seen _move._

Taking another long sip of his coffee Seto eyed the rags hawkishly. They seemed to be moving rhythmically now – almost as though they were breathing. Seto rolled his eyes and wondered if being locked up in the hovel was driving him around the twist.

Lupin, having caught Seto's slightly glazed stare, felt his lips quirk oddly and nudged the pile of rags with his elbow.

The pile shook and shifted and suddenly it became very apparent that they had been hiding a _person _within them.

Large drooping eyes blinked at Seto blearily as the stranger scratched his unshaven chin with a grimace. His thick ginger hair stuck up in odd tousles that assured Seto it hadn't seen a comb in a very, very long time. The elder Kaiba thought that he looked as though he should be lying in a ditch somewhere with an empty whiskey bottle clutched in his hands.

Shaking his head again Seto took another long sip from his coffee and wrapped an arm around his rib-cage with a grimace. He had a feeling that he'd broken something.

"Whassa'matter Lupin?" the distinctly grubby looking man grunted staring around with a vague expression.

Seto was sure he hadn't been all that far off with the whiskey scenario.

"Dung – this is Seto Kaiba," Lupin spoke up with a nod in Seto's direction before adding in an undertone, "the one I told you about."

Seto's eyes narrowed ever-so-slightly and he wondered just _what _Lupin had told the other man about him. This thought, however, was fated to be left neglected in the corner of Seto's mind.

For at that precise moment the Weasley twins made their grand entrance.

Fred swept in first, beaming with the mornings edition of, '_The Daily Prophet_' clutched between his fingertips. He plonked himself down across from Seto and gave a broad grin in the elder Kaiba's direction.

"_Love _the photo mate" he declared cheerfully.

George dropped into the seat beside him and mirrored his twins expression with dollops of enthusiasm. "Absolutely _superb _facial expressions – but I do believe the Headline was better. What was it again Fred?"

At this the newspaper was rolled out and Fred put on a high, nasally voice before reading aloud, "Chaos in Diagon Alley – Criminal At Large."

George grinned wickedly across the table at Seto who shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. Determined to administer a reaction George continued, "never knew we were housing a ''_criminal_' Hey, Mum? Why didn't you let us know Kaiba here was a - _how_ did they put it again?"

"Dangerous fugitive" Fred chimed in merrily.

"Yes – dangerous fugitive" George finished with an eerily wicked smile.

Mrs Weasley narrowed her eyes sternly and announced sharply, "that's enough you two! You _know _the Ministry are just stirring up trouble."

The twins shared grins and tossed the paper across the table at Seto who caught it deftly with a narrowed stare in their direction.

Unrolling the front page Seto caught sight of the aforementioned photograph – a giant head-shot that filled half the cover was scowling up at him irritably. Scanning the article he found that it was just as he had expected – his sudden appearance had been exploited so colorfully it made it seem as if he had been brandishing a shot-gun and ranting about his plans for World Domination.

Seto grimaced.

_That _was the media for you.

Setting the paper aside Seto proceeded to ignore the curious stares he received from all sides and poured himself another coffee.

'You'll have to answer their questions eventually omote' Set interrupted in a decidedly _chipper _voice.

The spirit was still smug about Seto agreeing to be his student. He had spent the entire night muttering in a state of deranged glee about '_Mahaado._'

'Thats what _they _think' Seto retorted smoothly and downed his second coffee in one gulp.

Set chuckled and slipped lazily out of Seto's body, causing Mokuba to visibly jump when his hand snapped down abruptly on the boys shoulder. Smirking at the younger Kaiba (who scowled in response) Set stretched his limbs in a cat-like fashion and ignored the rather startled stares he received from the vast majority of the tables occupants.

"Well omote? I think we've put off your lesson for far too long already."

Seto grimaced and muttered something rather unflattering beneath his breath before rising from his seat.

Lupin having seen this, cleared his throat suddenly and glanced up after jabbing Mundungus sharply in the side.

"Mister Kaiba – if you wouldn't mind, I'd like a word."

* * *

Set's eyebrow hung quivering, suspended so high that it threatened to completely disappear into his hairline. Slowly he turned his head to stare at the expression of downright mirth that adorned his reincarnations face before returning his stare towards the now somewhat irritable Remus Lupin.

"You want to _track down _the Tomb Robber?" he spluttered out disbelievingly.

His eyes lingered on the pair of wizards before he found himself unable to suppress the laughter that had been threatening to spill from his lips for the past ten minutes.

"You think that _he_," Set jabbed a finger violently in Mundungus' direction, "can find the legendary _Touzoku Ou Bakura_?"

His laugh resurged with a vengeance, a somewhat fanatic delirious laugh that caused Seto to shoot a somewhat disturbed stare in his direction.

"Even if you had the blessings of_ Neith_ herself... _Nobody_ can catch the King of Thieves unless he_ wants_ to be caught."(**1**)

Set trailed off and began to scowl somewhat sulkily, every now and then his muttering would rise loud enough for them to hear snatches of, 'accursed tomb robber' and 'desecrating tombs of the..'

Eventually he shifted his moody stare towards Seto who was eying him with a thoughtful expression. What his reincarnation had to say however wasn't quite what he had expected, "perhaps Bakura_ wants_ to be found."

"He can't hide forever – with any luck he should have seen the newspaper today. Perhaps_ he_ is searching for us."

Set marveled briefly over the fact that Seto didn't seem to have any particular qualms about the thought that the King of Thieves could be searching for them and frowned. His reincarnation could be extremely strange when he wished to be.

Set frowned and turned sharp eyes upon Lupin and Mundungus. "I'm not saying that they shouldn't try – I'm just saying that only a_ thief_ could find the King of Thieves."

The last thing he expected was for Remus to crack a smile and eye him with dry amusement. He watched in confusion as the wizard lazed back into his seat and raised an eyebrow mildly.

"I think we have it covered then."

* * *

Set's second attempt at teaching was proving to be a great deal more successful then his first.

For one, not a single punch had been thrown yet and Seto had only tried to trip him up twice. For another, they had made progress – and it was already five minutes into the lesson.

Set had come to the abrupt conclusion that the reason why Seto had refused to focus was that he was far to naive about what the Sennen Items actually were. It didn't matter how _wrong _his conclusion proved to be, it was a conclusion that he was intent on stressing his point on. Therefore the lesson had begun with an infusion of History – just the way he remembered being taught when he was a child.

Settling down into the sofa he had commandeered for the afternoon, Set rested a very serious dark stare on his reincarnations face.

"You have been told before about the Shadow Games have you not omote?"

Seto stared him flatly in the eye and nodded his head vaguely in response. Set smiled a somewhat twisted smile and lent back further into the sofa.

"You know the history of the Item holders?"

Seto's eyebrow twitched and he resisted the urge to stand up and start smacking his head against the nearest wall.

"Of course I do! - I was right _there _when you were telling those other two idiots the entire bloody story."

Set grimaced and rubbed at his head with a somewhat shirty glance in his reincarnations direction before he opened his mouth to speak.

"The Sennen Items were created through a magical ritual. From the blood of 99 human sacrifices the Items were formed. The Puzzle, The Ring, The Ankh, The Scales, The Tauk, The Eye and of course – The Rod."

"The magic that the items hold is unparalleled by any other – even the magic of the wizards here. Shadow Magic is dangerous and brutal – losing is not met with sympathy. The shadows and the creatures that inhabit them _have _no sympathy. Those who can wield the power of the shadows are tied to them. The creatures that they summon to their aid are loyal to them and only them. These creatures are bound to their very souls."

A very faint twist of Sets lips made Seto frown, the high priest was looking positively bitter.

"Everything – all of our magic, it is all indebted to blood. Losses are paid in it, only by the very _ka _of the wielder can the Shadows be satisfied. Shadow Magic is not a _game _omote – that was a lesson that we learned much to late."

Set paused and sucked in a deep breath to steady the shaking that had begun to creep into his voice. His dark eyes traced the patterns on the carpet as he struggled over his words. He started when Seto spoke up with a faint dawning of suspicion arising in his voice, "why did they use _blood?_"

Laughter shimmered in Set's eyes as they turned upon Seto with vague amusement.

"Blood omote. Blood is life and death. It is a magic more powerful then any other – it forges a bond so powerful that no-one can break it. Blood magic is one of the strongest and most dangerous types of magic that can ever be tampered with." (**2**)

Set's smile was very weak as he eyed his reincarnation from behind his eyelashes.

"Blood is what bound me to the Rod – it is what has bound _you _to it now."

A vague shudder rolled through Seto's spine as he observed the spirit with a somewhat enlightened expression.

The shadows fed on blood and souls – they fed on _life. _

Life itself was essentially energy – at least that it what Seto had come to believe. Now that he thought about it he had always been exhausted following his brief delving into Shadow Magic: when he had received the rod, Set's appearance, Diagon Alley... But Set had none the less been growing stronger.

Something in Seto's mind seemed to snap with realization – his eyes went very round and he turned to stare with unnerving severity at the spirit.

Set, in turn, shifted uncomfortably under the stare and Seto almost laughed. Where he had once been able to make out the intricate patterning of the couch through Set's body he could only see blurred blotches of color. Somehow it was beginning to make sense.

Seto narrowed his eyes as he rolled to his feet to stare down at the High Priest with a frown.

"If the shadows have to _feed _off of life to survive – wouldn't it be logical that they would feed off of – _other _energies as well?"

Set frowned and massaged his temples, "that would make sense" he replied finally.

"Energies like other _magic? _You've been getting stronger since we've been around these wizards."

Set's eyebrows shot upwards and he turned to stare at Seto with an air of surprise and traces of pride lingering in his dark eyes. "I – think you might be right omote" he murmured as he rose to his own feet.

Both sets of blue eyes met levelly for several moments before Seto sank back into his chair with a furrowing brow.

Seto found that among the stirring questions that were ricocheting through his mind only one refused to go unasked, his eyes turned somewhat uncertainly towards the spirit as he found himself struggling to voice his thoughts.

"- How.. What if it is necessary to break a bond created by blood?"

Neither of them failed to notice the significance of the question, nor the true meaning that lay beneath it. Set's eyes sharpened visibly and he looked away abruptly to peer at the wall with intense scrutiny. His voice was hollow when he spoke again, his eyes fluttering back swiftly to his reincarnation for only a second, "then one or both will die."

Raising his head to stare resolutely up at the spirit who had strolled towards him and was now watching him intently he shook his head slowly. The conclusions he had come to had answered several questions yes, but it had opened a whole new line of inquiries that were already hurling themselves through his brain.

"I think," he spoke up finally with resolution clearing his cloudy eyes, "that it's about time we have another of our demands met."

Set raised an eyebrow slowly as he caught onto his reincarnations wave of thinking and crouched slowly to peer him in the eye. From the very brief amount of time that he had _known _Seto he had already come to the conclusion that Seto didn't like to ask for help.

"You want to contact the Pharaoh?" he inquired carefully.

"Wanting doesn't even figure into this equation" Seto replied sullenly as he slumped further back into his chair.

Set rose to his full height and cocked his head to one side, "I guess that we should go talk to the wizards then."

Seto pulled a face and stared venomously at the ceiling for quite an amount of time.

* * *

Help was something that Seto had never been comfortable in asking for, this was something that anybody who knew anything about him realized very quickly. Now, faced with the prospect of having to downright _ask _the Pharaoh for assistance was humiliating.

The fact that he had to ask the _wizards _so he could ask the _pharaoh _for help was mortifying.

Seto's day was nose-diving rather impressively into, 'please shoot me' territory.

The letter was clutched firmly in his fingers – he had already been warned against emailing Yuugi Mutou. Apparently with the ministry keeping tabs on him it wasn't safe to use any form of Muggle technology. Seto had told them quite frankly that none of them seemed to knew one bloody bit about his technology so they should keep their mouths shut.

The subject hadn't been discussed again.

Letter sending however was one of the few things that Albus Dumbledore had been resolute upon – he would _not _be sending it via email. He would _not _be sending it by the postal system – but apparently he was sending it via a half-brained bird that wasn't even native to Japan.

Yeah, _that_ wasn't obvious.

His lip curling with distaste Seto glared darkly at the snowy owl that was preening its feathers. He couldn't help but feel that he was stuck in a world filled with idiots – the curse of the genius he supposed. Rubbing his head and trying to ignore the dull snickering that purred in his ears Seto took a step towards the bird uncertainly.

Seto had never particularly liked birds for a reason beyond his reckoning.

Eying the creature sharply he took another step forwards, watching as it hopped from clawed foot to clawed foot on its perch with an air of trepadition. He had the strangest feeling that it was plotting against him.

Ignoring the light brush of fingers against his shoulder he took another step forwards and attempted to maintain eye-contact with the creature. It had unnaturally bright jewel-like eyes that protruded rather too far out of its head for Seto's comfort – he wondered absently if it was messing with his mind.

"It's only a _bird, _omote. Don't tell me you're scared of birds?"

Pausing in his assault, Seto turned slowly to cast a dirty look back at the Spirit of the Rod. Set offered a smirk in response and Seto rolled his eyes. "I am _not _afraid of birds" he ground out darkly with a wrinkling of his nose and turned back towards where the owl was perched.

"_Especially_ not a prissy English bird."

Set's snickering rolled across his back and Seto's eyebrows knitted together in irritation.

As though to back up his claim Seto strode purposefully forwards and paused only a few centimeters away from where the owl was perched.

He nearly jumped out of his skin when the creature, which up until now had been watching his advance with the air of a bored spectator suddenly took flight. He watched it soar high over his head and descend towards the doorway which had only just opened. Seto blinked as he watched the owl lazily descend to perch on the extended hand of a discretely grinning Harry Potter.

"Professor Dumbledore said you might want some help" the boy spoke up loftily as he stroked the creatures head.

Raising an eyebrow with feigned disinterest Seto waved the letter lazily between his fingers, the boy was supposedly the same age as him if he remembered rightly.

Set grinned to himself and lounged against the side of a desk to watch.

Harry strode purposefully forwards with the bird perched perfectly still on his wrist. Seto watched the owl with a narrowed blue stare, it hooted dolefully at him and proceeded to stare right back at him. Set snickered under his breath and mused aloud, "it _is _only a bird, omote. Don't look so worried."

Harry suppressed a snort of laughter and shot a quick glance in the spirits general direction with a growing amount of interest. He had been _told _about the strange spirit that inhabited the elder Kaiba's body, in mild passing conversation by Lupin and then in explicit detail from the Weasley twins. But he had never actually _seen _him himself. Strangely he was exactly as he had imagined an identical Seto Kaiba to look like.

Funny that.

Seto's eyes darkened ominously and the growl that rolled up his throat made Harry start with surprise. The older Kaiba brother looked downright dangerous with the glare that was pinned onto the spirit.

"I toldyou already, I am _not _scared of birds. - And if you don't stop snickering next time I end up summoning the shadow realm you might just have a prolonged stay."

Set arched an eyebrow lazily, "be honest, you know you'd miss me terribly."

Seto's eyes glittered darkly and a smirk curved over his lips that had him looking positively deranged, "would you care to bet on that?"

"All over your _little_ phobia, omote? Perhaps _someone _is in need of a decent therapist..."

Seto's eyebrows contracted and he looked positively frightening as he rounded on the spirit, "I. Do. Not. Have. A. Phobia."

Set winked at Harry in an extremely obvious fashion and smiled obligingly, "I heard you the first time, omote."

A muscle spasmed violently somewhere around Seto's eyebrow and he scowled viciously as he rounded on Harry. Suddenly the Boy-Who-Lived – the miraculous survivor of numerous encounters with the most feared dark wizard of their generation didn't really like his chances.

* * *

A dull haze seemed to settle over the occupants of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place as the week progressed.

Breakfast times were spent in relative silence, Bill rushing around to gather lost items before he disappeared to work. The twins making explosive bangs and creating havoc before they too left to open up their shop. Arthur Weasley would spend his time trying to engage Seto in conversations about plugs and light sockets – Seto would spend his time trying to avoid conversation with Arthur.(**3**) Harry Ron and Hermione seemed to have fallen into step with investigations into Seto and Mokuba – it seemed that the pair were a lot more suspicious then they had realized themselves to be. Meanwhile Molly Weasley attempted to force multiply courses of food down Harry's throat.

All in all, it was peace and serenity by most of the occupant's standards.

This was perhaps why it was such a stir when the usual monotony was broken on Saturday morning. Perhaps it was the fact that Seto had woken much to early or that he simply hadn't consumed enough caffeine the day before-hand. Whatever it was – the breakfasting occupants of the house were more then stunned to find the businessman stumbling into the kitchen dressed in all his belts and buckles – to the waist up at least.

Mokuba didn't appear to take any notice of the phenomena.

Ginny grinned a private grin to herself and exchanged glances with Hermione before settling back in her chair with a piece of toast and proceeding to do what any _normal_ teenaged girl would do: observe.

A rather startled expression crossed Arthur Weasley's face while Bill looked up in vague amusement from his end of the table and raised an eyebrow in the direction of the twins.

Glancing upwards Mokuba rolled his eyes at the Weasley's and turned his eyes back to his game console with a roll of his eyes.

Every move that Seto made was scrutinized as he fumbled with the jug of coffee and proceeded to inhale every last drop within his cup. The procedure was followed a total of three times before Seto abruptly stood and strolled back out of the kitchen without the faintest inclination that anything remotely extraordinary had just happened.

Questioning stares rested upon a decidedly uncaring Mokuba who was busy blowing up aliens on one of his game-consoles over buttered toast. Wrinkling his nose when the screen flashed a depressing, 'Game Over' up at him Mokuba set the console aside with a frown.

"What the hell was _that _about?" George suddenly spoke up.

Mokuba raised an eyebrow carefully and reached for his orange juice, a slight shrug of his shoulders indicating that it really wasn't that much of a big deal. "Pre-Coffee" he replied sagely.

The grin on Georges face widened further still and he leaned across the table towards the younger Kaiba as though to discuss the best way to go about blackmailing.

Mokuba's eyes narrowed sharply as though he had anticipated the twins line of thought and cut him off with a sharp, "it doesn't count. It's pre-coffee time. Actually – it's a good thing. Means he's getting used to being here." (**4**)

Fred scoffed loudly and lounged back in his chair with a roll of his eyes, "there's no such thing!"

Mokuba raised an eyebrow carefully and twirled his game console between his hands with a quickly sharpening stare. The look upon his face showed that he most definitely didn't agree with Fred's position on the matter.

When Seto strolled back into the kitchen with a shirt neatly buttoned in place and sat back down in his chair as though nothing had happened the twins wheeled on him. Amusement littered the faces that lined the table and Seto merely raised an eyebrow before pouring himself another cup of coffee and snagging a piece of toast from his brothers plate.

"Missing anything?" Ginny spoke up cheerfully as she hid her smile behind a glass of orange juice.

Seto gave no indication that he'd heard her, he merely continued to eat his pilfered toast and casting an off-hand look towards his brother. Said younger brother scowled back at him with a small frown marring his face as he reached to butter more toast.

Loud yelling from the hallway interrupted the remotely peaceful breakfast when the kitchen door burst open. A wildly cursing Tonks hobbled inside with tears in her eyes, upon seeing the raised eyebrows she whined out, "it was that damned umbrella stand again. I swear it's _right_ in the way.."

She was deftly ushered aside by the much larger, much more somber-looking Kingsley Shacklebot who spoke up with an urgent narrowing of eyes, "Death Eaters have some kid bailed up down by the Leaky Cauldron."

Tonks was still cursing when the breakfast table turned to chaos.

Bill apparated away with a loud crack startling them all by just how quickly he had moved. Fred and George went to follow but were met with an angry belting to their ears that they weren't quite thick enough to ignore – Arthur disappeared quickly after his son and Seto rose to his feet abruptly.

He failed to notice the slightly narrowed stares that followed his movements and he raised an eyebrow before speaking up sharply.

"_You're_ the ones who wanted me in on this little crusade of yours – I'm going with you."

* * *

**Footnotes:  
**1. Neith was an Egyptian Goddess linked to war and hunting. Was focused more on the 'hunting' part there..  
2. Ding Ding.. I decided to give a little hint alert – take a sharp looksy at that paragraph then see if you can make any links between that and the end of Book 4.. Let me know any conclusions you come to..  
3. -sniggers- Plugs... I couldn't resist that bit – Arthur Weasley's fascination with plugs has always amused me...  
4. -Scowls- Pre-coffee time _so _does not count!

* * *

**AN: **Argh! This chapter was an abomination.. -twitches- The reason that it took so long to get out, (yes, there was a _reason_!) was the sudden unwanted presence of practice exams in my life. Bah, what is _with_ 'practice' exams anyway? You'd think one lot of exams would be enough torture wouldn't you? Anyway, this chapter was unpolished and irritating in my vision. Not at all happy with it but I decided I should probably post before I get lynch-mobbed. Besides, the next chapter promises to be much more amusing. There were a few important details splashed into this chapter though so at least it got that out of the way.. In apologies for the lack of updates a brief insight into the next chapter; we finally get another YGO character involved. Though it might not be the one you expect.

* * *

_I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts..._


	11. Master of Dragons

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Ten-**

Master of Dragons.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

Seto Kaiba was on a mission.

The entire street was in chaos – screaming, fleeing masses of humanity tore down alleyways, between abandoned cars and into stores. Singing rays of burning magic shredded the sky in arcs of color and power. All around him wizards were fighting wizards. (**1**)

He watched Kingsley Shacklebot race past, his wand flashing as he caught and repelled blows. _They_ didn't matter however – he was on a _mission._

Forced to drop behind a taxi as a stray spell went hurtling towards him Seto narrowed his eyes shrewdly in thought. It seemed that he was going to have more trouble then he had first anticipated.

Glancing up over the taxi roof Seto's lips curved into a frown – he would just have to work the only way that he knew how to.

Bracing himself, he took off into a run down the street, dodging and hurtling between cars. He could see the central group of Death Eaters ahead of him – he supposed that was where they were keeping the '_kid_' captive.

With a white-knuckled grip upon the Rod, Seto's onslaught was abruptly thwarted as he was forced into making an abrupt halt. He took a step backward and sharp eyes surveyed the black-robed figure that was blocking his path. Amusement sparked alight in the strangers eyes as he gave Seto a once-over and took in his decidedly_ non-wizarding _attire.

"Shouldn't _you_ be running with the _other_ rats, Muggle-Filth?"

The barely perceptible twitching of the muscles around Seto's lips and stiffening of his shoulder blades were all that physically revealed that the words had been heard. He rose an eyebrow with careful precision and slipped into his game-face with the composure of a seasoned competitor. After all – he hadn't been dubbed 'Game Master Kaiba' for nothing.

His lips curled in an unnervingly collected smirk and impossibly blue eyes smoldered in a way that only Seto Kaiba's _could._ He had dealt with people like this man before, people who sized him up as being disadvantaged in some way. It was about time he gave the man a rather rude awakening.

"Running isn't my _style_" he presumed to respond.

His fingertips skittered over the cool surface of the Sennen Rod as he watched for any sign of response in the mans visible features. It would be tough to read him – the Death Eaters obviously took secrecy to the extreme.

It didn't take long for Seto to notice the change in the mans eyes. Surprise flickered in the mans unremarkable brown eyes – he was undoubtedly taken aback by the cool attitude with which he had been received.

It was quickly apparent however that it would take more then a few collected responses to set the man off-balance as he soon broke into a laugh. Seto made a hasty move to grab hold of his deck at the surge of warning he received from Set's presence – what he hadn't counted on was the spell that hit him point-blank in the chest.

When he had first begun screaming he had no idea – after all Seto Kaiba didn't _scream._ Nor did he know when the searing blades began to tear through his skin or exactly when it was that they stopped. He only found himself gasping for breath with his knees pressed into the cool tarmac and filled with the kind of rage that was sure to leave a scar.

The Spirit of the Rod took control with such force that any resistance Seto might have thought to muster was left out on the street corner. Such was the burning rage that swelled like bile within the spirits being that Seto feared for those who still crowded the street.

The Death Eater was still _laughing_.

This was the first thing that came to Set's attention as he seized control from his reincarnation.

The person who had dared to cause his_ omote_ pain was_ laughing._ He found himself staring at the creature before him as he laughed – he hoped that the man had enjoyed causing Seto so much pain. It would most certainly be the last good feeling the man would ever experience.

Ever.

Set's eyes glazed with a rebellious gleam of vindictive fantasies – this man would _suffer _before his end. He had dared to flaunt his power against that of the _Kai-Imakhu – _he was the revered one. A blood-thirsty tongue darted across his lips as he observed the Death Eater with the air of one waiting for the precise moment to strike. (**2**)

The Death Eater failed to notice any difference come over his opponents face, he merely watched as the man rose to his feet again. There was something_ sharper _and more regal about the was he stood – but that was all down to confidence wasn't it? He knew that something didn't quite add up but it didn't really matter. He would kill the foolish muggle soon enough anyway. With an acquired taste of malicious glee testing itself upon his lips he lifted his wand and directed its tip towards the boys chest.

It became quite evident however that something _had _changed within his opponent – for despite Seto Kaiba's more then impressive history in beating back the 'bad-guys' he was no sorcerer. He was after all, only an apprentice.

Set, however, was in a class of his own.

The shadows surged hungrily to their masters beckoning call. Rising and swarming from all directions to beg and crawl around his limbs with gleeful anticipation. They rolled in like the incoming tide – slowly yet steadily tarmac and abandoned cars and buildings were swallowed in the gaping jaws of darkness.

A shudder had begun to stagger its way through the Death Eaters body. Someone, he realized with a shiver, had taken the liberty of painting the sky black.

The ray of magic that burst forth with a sense of urgent panic from the others wandwas hungrily lapped up by an overzealous swarm of shadows.

The beginnings of fear possessed the Death Eaters eyes as he watched his spell vanish into a cluster of yawning, gaping_ shadows. _Slowly they turned upon Set. The Death Eaters throat ran dry as he stared at the stranger that stood before him – he began to notice that this _creature _wasn't the same as he had been before.

The Death Eater was sure that the man hadn't worn that eerie smile that seemed to carry brandished daggers in its depths. Nor had his eyes been quite so _dark _or filled with a burning vengeance that was so _old _and violent one might have thought that he had lived for all of time_. This_ man was stained with _darkness. _He radiated it in a sense far more tangible then sight, sound, taste or smell. He simply _was _darkness. A darkness that was far _older_ and far more _powerful_ then any he could ever hope to possess.

Or for that matter – that his _master _could claim to possess.

The hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle and rise as he took another step backward. He had a strong feeling that he had stepped far to deep into something that he didn't understand. Whatever the creature in front of him was – it was _powerful._

- And by the expression on its face it hadn't enjoyed the curse he had cast half as much as he had enjoyed casting it.

The Death Eaters wand clattered against the tarmac helplessly as he stared into the mans smoldering dark eyes – they were almost hypnotic.

Between two long slender fingers Set procured a lone card from within a pocket.

The Death Eater regarded the card with a sense of dread that should have been utterly ridiculous. His gut told him that he didn't want to _know _what the stranger before him was planning to do with it - and by the sadistic purr that seemed to emanate from the others mans throat he figured his gut was probably right. He watched the man stretch his arm over his head and took another step backward, his lips working a desperate blessing that he could not give voice to. (**3**)

Shadows seemed to roll off of the surface in draping tentacles and waves. The air itself seemed to rend and stretch in a way that it shouldn't, screeching and moaning, as though it bore some god-awful weight.

Set's dark eyes closed and eyebrows knitted together in focused concentration.

The Sennen Rod burnt brighter then the light of Sirius in his hands. (**4**)

The entire street closed in upon itself as shadows rolled in thick and fast like thunderclouds – and it was _silent. _The very _air _around them _churned_ and the ground seemed lost amidst the tangible darkness. Panic ground the air with such power that Set thought it might draw sparks.

But it was silent.

The Death Eater was now stumbling blindly backwards. His shriek of terror that had been meant to break the oppressive silence that had taken hold of the entire street was muffled by the overwhelming_ black. __He_ had heardthe moaning of the lost souls. _He_ had seentheir shapeless forms crawling and pleading for freedom.

The darkness was stifling.

But amidst it there was _something_.

The pounding of wings moving through congested air. Something _large _moving gracefully through the air in the precise fashion that it shouldn't.

The darkness seemed to clump and strain against the creature that threatened to break free of them.

An eruption of light tickled Set's eyelids as it flooded the air and the shadows scrambled away.

A soft moan escaped the Death Eaters lips as he began to scramble wildly backwards – all coherent thought left his mind as pure unadulterated terror flooded his subconscious.

The entire ground trembled as it landed.

The concrete buckled and deep fissures spread through the tarmac like the riverbeds of the Nile. Metal screeched upon metal as stray cars were mutilated beneath its weight. Buffeting waves of hot air beat down upon the ground and giant leathery wings arced high above the street.

The shadows seemed to melt away from the area leaving in their path an overwhelmed silence filled with terror and foreboding.

A terrible ear-splitting roar ripped through the air – tearing the remaining shadows to shreds and trumpeting the arrival of the magnificent creature that had alighted in front of its master.

It was beautiful.

In the cloudy London morning light, it's magnificent ivory hide radiated an ethereal glow. Sharp, calculating sapphire-eyes observed the street as its long serpentine body, rippling with sinuous muscle and power, took a step forwards.

Long deadly talons drove through the concrete as they landed and another ear-splitting roar sent tremors rippling through the entire street.

Seto's breath hitched unconsciously – before he knew it he had exclaimed in awe-struck reverie, "_Blue eyes..._" (**5**)

The beast roared again and the spell was broken as chaos erupted.

Set strode forwards to stand at his creatures side with a smirk tainting his lips. All around them wizards began to disapparate with loud cracks and spells began to hurtle through the air towards the dragon and its master.

Together the creature and its wielder moved forwards, the earth trembled at their feet and wisps of shadows danced in their wake. Seldom few of the Death Eaters remained now – only those engaged in heavy battle with other wizards remained and the clustered group that appeared to be struggling with their would-be-captive.

The White Dragon let out another bellowing roar and its wings beat the air violently. _Impatiently_. Panic rose through the ranks of the Death Eaters and the struggle ahead seemed to intensify, Set was surprised to find that Seto was very much so present in his mind.

Painfully observant as always.

Then they were upon the group.

The great dragon towered high above the robed figures as they began to flee, the rod twirled in Set's fingers as he watched on with morbid amusement. "Blue eyes.." he all but purred aloud and the Dragon seemed to pause in order to listen.

"_Attack_."

The crackle of energy was sharp and electrifying as power seemed to seep in and out of the great beast in tumultuous amounts. The air popped and crackled around him as the Blue Eyed Dragon rose on its hind legs and prepared to attack. It's giant leathery wings beat the air and the remaining Death Eaters froze in place.

From somewhere amidst the group a figure scrambled away and broke free of the circle.

Someone that _Seto_ recognized very quickly.

The crackling energy that erupted from the Dragons mouth seemed to tear the very sky as it descended upon the frozen Death Eaters. Burning electricity crackled and seared their skin – like giant bolts of lightning the attack struck.

The street exploded in a shower of flying debris and thick smothering dust. An acrid smell of burning flesh and hair rose in thick smoke from the smoking rubble. Screaming echoes ricocheted up and down the street like none ever witnessed.

The last of the Death Eaters disappeared instantaneously – unwilling to stick around lest they suffer the same fates as their peers. Seto however did not pay attention the burning rubble or the magnificently dangerous White Dragon that rose in an elegant arc against the dull gray sky.

Seto Kaiba's eyes were firmly locked upon the worse-for-wear, shaking and pale-faced scrap of a figure that was laid out upon the pavement barely ten feet away.

Without warning he seized back control of his body and wheeled towards the all-to-familiar figure with what seemed to be mental war-fare taking place over whether he should laugh with relief or groan with disgust.

Slowly he began to trek over the debris-strewn road, ignoring the protest of Set's mind at having been thrown out of control and the jelly-like consistency of his legs.

Seto Kaiba was on a mission.

With a narrowing stare Seto stared in relative silence at the decidedly pale Egyptian.

When one lavender eye creaked open wearily he was eyed with something akin to relief and disbelief all at once. A weak laugh escaped the Egyptians lips and he grasped his chest with a grimace, "I see _you've_ taken well to a life of destruction Kaiba. Don't pull any punches do you?"

The Egyptians eyes traveled pointedly towards where the Blue Eyes White Dragon still stood, now perfectly still as though awaiting it's next command. Seto grimaced visibly and cast a glance over his shoulder at the dragon.

With a knowledge that wasn't essentially his own he waved the Sennen Rod dismissively with a vague murmuring of, "_em hotep_" escaping his lips and the dragon began to dissolve into wisps of shadows.

"What brings you here Ishtar?" he replied gruffly as he turned back to the Egyptian.

Malik rose slowly into a sitting position to eye him with a detached kind of twisted smile curling across his lips.

"I'm afraid it's a _very _long story."

* * *

The faces that lined the Kitchen Table were grim.

_Apparently_ the wizards hadn't been as prepared as they thought they had been to see the harsh truth that was the blood-ridden justice of Shadow Magic. Seto narrowed his eyes and leaned back into his chair with a slight huff of irritation before casting a brief glance in the direction of a decidedly withdrawn Malik Ishtar.

The Egyptian hadn't been asked to speak yet – as soon as the members of the Order had realized that Seto _knew _the Tomb Keeper they had both been ushered away back to Headquarters. It was more then apparent that Malik viewed _his_ capture in much the same light that Seto viewed his own; kidnapping. The Egyptian didn't appear to think very much of the wizards thus far – not that one could really tell.

Seto didn't really know all that much about Malik anyway.

He certainly didn't_ look_ the same as he had done at the end of Battle City. The last images he could recall of the Egyptian were as he talked to Yuugi following the final duel, the Malik then had appeared less-psychotic and more relaxed – almost_ pleasant._

This Malik looked exhausted and, for lack of a better word to describe it, haunted.

'Omote – I do believe they just asked you a question' Set chimed in rather dully in his head.

The spirit seemed slightly miffed about something that Seto couldn't put his finger on and had refused point-blank to talk to the wizards himself. Seto was highly unamused.

Turning his head back towards the expectant stares directed upon him Seto raised an eyebrow slightly before moving to cover himself.

"I don't see what your problems are. You had a problem and_ we_ dealt with it – it isn't my fault that you didn't inquire into the specifics of Shadow Magic."

Malik eyed Seto with a look bordering on amusement. The Egyptian was beginning to understand just why Seto made such a good businessman.

A set of dark eyes narrowed shrewdly at him from the chair opposite and Severus Snape's lips carved a sharp line into his face before he cast a swift calculative stare over the rest of the table and lent back in his chair.

Seto cast one of his most effective executive stares around the table as though to challenge a response and Molly Weasley pursed her lips with a frown.

"The_ problem_ Seto is that you just killed **five** _human_ _beings_" she spoke up with a slight trill attaching itself to the end of her sentence.

The last person that Seto had suspected to be defended by abruptly interrupted.

"Five _human beings _that would have killed every single one of us without batting an eyelid," Snape spoke up softly from his own place at the table and casting a sharp stare down the table in Mrs Weasley's direction.

"This _is_ war Molly" came a second voice from the doorway.

Turning his head Seto found Albus Dumbledore, looking less batty then usual, standing in the door frame with a serious expression on his face.

"Lives will be lost on both sides. It is inevitable."

Dumbledore swept through the doorway towards the opposite end of the table and took a seat to regard the tables occupants with a frown.

Kingsley Shacklebot was holding a tea-towel to his head to try and stem the bleeding from a cut, Tonks was looking decidedly woozy but nobody seemed to know what kind of spell had hit her and Bill Weasley had procured a nasty gash across his right arm. Yet every single set of eyes was completely focused upon the old man with a kind of reverie that made Seto wonder whether there was something he just didn't _get _about Albus Dumbledore.

"It is our own fault that we have not told Mister Kaiba that our aim is not to kill but to capture. Though I somehow doubt that this has any real relevance to _you_ does it?"

A piercing stare rested upon Seto and he met it head-on. He could see now that the headmaster was meaning to store the blame purely on Set's shoulders. With indignation making its way to the surface of his chest he narrowed his eyes and replied in a distinctly haughty tone, "if it hadn't been for Set half of the people at this table would be dead – including_ me._ I had every opportunity to stop him and I won't allow you to put the blame on him."

The Rod burnt against his backbone for a moment before a hand rested upon his shoulder and Set stared the headmaster in the eye sharply.

Seto heard the choking, splutter from Malik's direction and a smirk dawdled lazily across his lips.

"_What_ in the name of -"

Set turned his head in the Egyptians direction briefly before turning back to Dumbledore. A narrowing dark stare that was bordering on downright hostile regarded the headmaster with burning anger, "I will exact justice in the way that the gods see fit. I will not take _orders _from you Wizard. I serve only Pharaoh and the Gods."

Seto raised an eyebrow somewhat and turned a calculative stare upon him.

"What the – where the _hell_ did _he _come from? Thats – the high priest?"

Puzzled lavender eyes shot towards Seto questioningly, shedding layers of exhaustion with sudden curiosity and alarm. Seto merely inclined his head – the effects of the massive amount of energy he had lost after using so much Shadow Magic were beginning to surface rapidly.

Seto rubbed his temples with a grimace. A faint blur had begun to obscure his vision and he proceeded to block out the voices that now seemed much to loud to be allowed. He vaguely heard Set's voice rise and fall, mixing with others into a low drone that proceeded to irritate his ear-drums.

From somewhere down the table Mrs Weasley had risen to her feet and was launching into what seemed to be another onslaught of reprimands.

"- You will _not _speak that way to Professor Dumbledore while you are in this house! After all that we've done for you – apologize immediately!"

"Molly, that's enough. We are all perfectly within our rights to express our opinions -" Dumbledore began in a commanding tone that made the woman pause and turn upon him.

Bill was eying the Spirit of the Rod with a distinct spark of curiosity in his hazel eyes, he shifted carefully on his seat and readjusted the tea-towel that was pressed to his arm.

"Mum he's right – if the Death Eaters hadn't been scared off by Kaiba's dragon then we would have been goners."

With a quiet sniff the woman sat back in her seat and settled for shooting nasty stares in Seto's direction.

Dumbledore with a somewhat relieved expression gave a brief glance in Bill's direction before rearranging himself in his chosen seat and turning a careful expression upon the Spirit of the Rod. There was something defensive about the High Priests stature. He held his head high with regal arrogance as though daring the Wizard to accuse him of anything, it was almost as if they had done something to offend him.

"I would like to hear more about what happened today – if you would be so kind Mister Kaiba?"

Seto gave a tired grimace and rubbed at his temples again. An ominous pounding seemed to be settling in somewhere in the base of his skull and he didn't particularly feel like reliving the days events. Not now at least – whatever the spell was that he had been hit by it had taken a lot out of him.

He could feel Set's grip on his shoulders clench and briefly wondered at just how he could feel the Spirits muscles moving and tensing. It was possibly the strangest concept he had ever come across – the Spirit of the Rod was supposedly several thousand years _dead. _

Lifting his eyes sharply he cast a fleeting glance towards where Malik was now watching the Spirit of the Rod with a faintly glazed look as though caught up in his own thoughts. Reverting his eyes back to where Albus Dumbledore sat Seto took in a breath and began to speak in his usual assertive, albeit, somewhat tired tone.

"What is it that you want to know?"

The irritation that attached itself to his voice was more then noticeable to the occupants of the table.

Dumbledore regarded him quietly for some time, as though he were a particularly _difficult _student that he hadn't quite figured out how to reach yet and reached up to remove his glasses. He polished them in silence upon his robes before lifting his head to stare Seto again in the eyes. (**6**)

"I am not going to grill you for information Mister Kaiba. I only ask so that I can determine just what it is that happened today" he spoke aloud in a calm voice as crystal-blue eyes met their stormy counterparts.

"I have a question" Set suddenly spoke aloud with a determined narrowing of his eyes.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow obligingly and nodded his head for the spirit to proceed.

"I want to know," he spoke up with a soft voice that had all the charm of broken glass, "just why we should help you at all. As far as I can see neither of us asked for your _protection_."

The tail end of his sentence was uttered with a scoff and the spirit cast a look towards his reincarnation before he continued.

"It became very clear to me that we are only a convenient source of power to back up your cause. We aren't of your _kind _and it is of no consequence if we die for the cause... Not a single one of you was there to back us up when we were in danger and now you criticize my methods of eradicating that danger?"

The spirits eyes seemed to glow like hot coals as his hand dug sharper into Seto's shoulder.

"I am beginning to think that this partnership was nothing more then a scam to protect your precious boy-hero from his inevitable duty."

There was a hiss of anger from Molly Weasley's direction which went duly ignored and Dumbledore seemed somewhat taken back by the sudden clarification of just what had gotten Set so riled. An angry buzzing erupted as Seto regarded the spirit closely.

The High Priest was _angry _because Seto had gotten hurt and the Wizards hadn't done anything about it. Despite how irrational and stupid the entire thing was, it was also slightly amusing. (**7**)

Or at least, that was Malik Ishtar's opinion.

The boy had broken into laughter only seconds after Set's outburst and was now shaking with uncontrollable mirth while eying Seto with a stare that promised he wouldn't forget this. Despite the odd looks that Malik was attracting it didn't draw away from the fact that Set had just started throwing rocks at a very _sore _subject for the Wizards – and it appeared that the spirit of the Rod had a _very_ good arm.

Every member of the Order knew deep down in their hearts that the only person who could bring an end to the Dark Lords reign was Harry Potter. No matter how many reinforcements they got – no matter _who_ was on their side; the fate of their world rested on the shoulders of the Boy-Who-Lived.

And not a single one of them cared to admit it.

Well, no-one except for Severus Snape.

Severus thought about it in great detail for long periods of time (usually when faced with a double lesson of Potions with the Gryffindor's in his classroom in which he had to stare at Potter's head for longer then was healthy).

This was perhaps the best indicator that Severus was the most reasonable person seated at the table at that precise moment in time. This was by all standards an occasion that _should_ have been celebrated, for Snape had never been the proverbial voice of reason. Today however was to be his shining moment, for with a surly narrowing of his eyes he spoke up silkily, "you are precisely right."

Bill Weasley shot a startled look in Snape's direction that could be clearly read as saying, 'are you _mad?_'

Severus however ignored this and focused his dark eyes upon the spirits angered stare. "This _isn't _your war and you did not _ask_ to be involved in it. Nor do any of us have any real connections to you at all that would deem us to _care _if you or Kaiba were killed in the course of this war."

Bill began to frantically blink his eyes as though trying to tap out Morse-code. He didn't know about Snape but _he _didn't particularly feel like being flame-grilled and eaten by a monstrous dragon.

This time however Snape shot a very, _very _venomous stare in the Weasley boys direction – a stare that gave dire warnings of a bloody and painful death if the boy didn't stop distracting him.

Bill appeared to get the message loud and clear and instead turned to eying Malik Ishtar with a slight frown as the boy clutched at his ribs in convulsions of laughter. He was severely tempted to ask what was so funny but decided it best not to break the healthy tension that Snape appeared to be building.

" - _But_ I'm afraid that you've missed one simple detail in this entire affair."

Snape's eyes were sharper then the Tomb Robber's teeth as he pinned Set down with them and sat up straighter in his chair. "This war may seem to you to be a power-struggle between Wizards," he continued in a silky tone that was so quiet it was really a wonder that any of them could hear him, "but it _will_ effect the world as you know it, whether you like it or not. If the Dark Lord wins the war – if _we_ lose then nothing and no-one will stop him. _Your _world will not exist any more."

His eyes traveled from Set to Seto smoothly and found that the spirits hands rested on both of his reincarnations shoulders now. He was resolutely silent and his eyes were closed over – Seto's eyes too appeared to have clouded over as though lost in thought.

When Set focused his gaze upon him the other man narrowed his eyes.

For several moments the pair exchanged stares in silence. Snape's cold black eyes fixed without hesitation upon the ancient smoldering stare that Set threw back at him. Somewhere along the course an understanding spun through them both and they turned their stares aside without any further thought to the matter.

The rest of the table didn't understand quite why the spirit of the Rod retreated without any further disagreement into the Sennen Rod, nor did they notice Snape sink back into his chair with a tight-lipped expression of exhaustion. Seto himself grimaced to himself and combed his fingers through his hair with the tell-tale signs of irritation beginning to show.

It was soon very clear that the situation was not to be discussed any further for Seto remained silent in his seat, every so often casting a menacing glare in Malik Ishtar's general direction as the boy hiccuped his way over the remainder of his laughter.

When a lavender stare danced in his direction and the laughter started anew Seto narrowed his eyes and growled it, "_shut it_ Ishtar."

Seto was feeling much to drained to deal with the Egyptian in any way that would truly satisfy him – mostly because they all seemed to involve the Tomb Keepers untimely demise in extremely gory and detailed fashions. Seto had a feeling that Set's twisted sense of revenge was beginning to rub off on him.

'I am _not _twisted' the spirit huffed out in a decidedly miffed sounding voice.

Seto's lips tugged into an exhausted smirk and he leaned further back into his chair.

'I'm _not!_' the spirit insisted sounding positively sulky.

Seto in turn diverted his attention back to the table which were now eying him and Malik with somewhat frosty stares. It seemed that the animosity that was surging rather highly towards Seto had managed to rub off on those associated with him. Malik had stopped his laughter and was now eying the wizards with a wary lavender stare.

His fingers twisted through dusty blond hair and Kohl-sharpened eyes amplified his obvious distrust of the group. Tanned fingers glided idly over the gold that adorned his neck and more pronounced then ever was the element of complete and utter anxiousness that seemed to envelop the Egyptian. He eyed the table with increasing volumes of mistrust and glanced quickly towards where Seto sat with a barely perceptible smirk on his face.

Seto watched with an air of detachment as Dumbledore's eyes turned away from him and onto Malik with the slightest etchings of a frown lining his face.

"I suppose that would make you Mister Ishtar?" he spoke up finally.

Malik shifted under the crystal-blue stare that assessed him and lifted his chin with defiant arrogance, tossing dusty blond hair over one shoulder he proceeded to stare Dumbledore firmly in the eyes.

"_Malik _to be precise" he spoke up with flickers of acid hinting in his tone.

Albus Dumbledore was beginning to wonder if he had done something that offended everyone and everything connected to Seto Kaiba. Whatever it was he was sure it hadn't been intentional.

"Malik," the headmaster obliged with a slight nod of his head.

"Would you happen to know why Voldemort is so interested in you? Or did you just happen to be in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed somewhat as he uttered the latter question.

Malik gave a hint of a grin and fluttered his eyelashes at the headmaster, "who is this Voldemort character again? I don't see _why _he'd be interested in me..."

The thudding in the back of Seto's head began to pound with all the subtlety of a jack-hammer.

With the conclusion that they were getting nowhere Albus Dumbledore shook his head and stood slowly, "I think it best if we continue this discussion another time."

Seto made to stand but hurriedly slumped back into his seat. His legs didn't seem to want to co-operate with his mind.

He nearly jumped as a pair of arms proceeded to heft him out of his seat. Set didn't say a word as he began to carefully haul his reincarnation out of the kitchen and through the hallway, pointedly ignoring the blond Egyptian that merrily followed their path.

Seto found that his strength was quickly draining away and he was struggling to even walk. He supposed that it must have taken an enormous amount of his energy to summon a creature from the Shadow Realm into their Realm.

Everything seemed skewed these days. Every scientifically backed up scrap of evidence he had known to be true had been proved false. The very fact that Set could support him and all-but carry him up the stairs was a prime example. Set himself was another.

The staircase seemed to last an eternity and he was fairly sure that it had grown longer just to spite him. He certainly hoped that this wasn't going to become a routine.

Mokuba startled when their door opened – he had been playing his game-boy.

One look up at his brother however and he was on his feet and rushing towards them with wide-eyed concern.

"What happened? Is he alright?"

Set cast a look in the younger Kaiba's direction and grunted out, "he'll be fine. Just needs rest."

Mokuba narrowed his eyes and advanced several steps on the spirit.

"_Why _does he need rest? I'm not stupid – none of the other item holders ever 'needed rest' after they used them. What are you doing to my brother?"

"That's what _I'd _like to know" Malik mused aloud as he lazed against the door-frame with a wicked smile curling across his lips.

Mokuba, for the second time that night, let out a yelp of surprise and jumped backwards from the doorway. "What the hell's _he _doing here?" the younger Kaiba yelped and narrowed his eyes at the Egyptian.

"A good question" the spirit growled out with a stare to equal Mokuba's in the Tomb Keepers direction.

Malik waved his hands innocently before him and let out a soft laugh as he tilted his head to one side and shifted his weight to a more comfortable position against the door frame. "Lets just say I didn't have a lot of choice in the matter" he murmured aloud with a rueful smile.

"No – how about we say that you tell us _exactly_ why you're here and why the minions of a power-hungry wizard that everybody seems so damn scared of is paying you visits. I'm sorry but you don't seem the type to chat over a cup of coffee Ishtar" Seto spoke up from where he had drooped onto his bed and was propped up against the wall.

Malik's smile seemed to curl even more so and he let out a low laugh as he crossed his arms over his chest. Gold flashed at his wrists as his jewelery caught the dim light and he cast a somewhat amused glance over the three faces that were watching him suspiciously. He couldn't find it in himself to blame them however – it wasn't as if he hadn't given two out of the three of them good reason to believe him untrustworthy.

"Alright Kaiba – I'll cut you a deal. I'll tell you the reason why I'm here if you tell me why you're here. Sound fair to you?"

Malik's lavender eyes flashed with a challenge as he turned them upon Seto who smirked in response and nodded his head lazily.

"Very well Ishtar – _you_ can go first."

Malik's nose wrinkled faintly and he muttered back dryly, "you're too kind Kaiba."

Stretching his arms over his head briefly the Egyptian glanced between the mirror-images before eying a somewhat suspicious Mokuba with amusement when the boy shuffled backwards.

"I don't _bite _kid" he spoke up with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

Mokuba pulled a face at him and crossed his arms staunchly over his chest with all the bravado that a young Kaiba _should _have. Malik shook his head and returned his stare towards the elder of the Kaiba brothers – preferring not to look at the High Priest. It was still a little to strange to process yet.

"It all started when Isis decided that I had far to much time on my hands – I've never attended school, there wasn't much need really, but Isis decided that since I was going to be living like a regular teenager that I should get used to it. So instead of enrolling me in school she offered me a job working with her on restoring and translating a stone tablet the museum had recently excavated from a site near where they had discovered... _Another_ tablet."

Lavender eyes regarded Seto with vague glittering amusement as the other boy stiffened and cast a short look in the High Priests direction. Seto had obviously made the connection.

"Get on with it Ishtar" Seto muttered sharply and rubbed at his forehead with a slight grimace.

"Well as I was saying.. Once the restoration was complete – it took _months _Isis barely lifted a damn finger. She said that she was _supervising.. _Talk about slave labor... - we moved onto translating, thats when things started to get interesting."

The smile on Malik's face seemed to falter somewhat and his fingers drifted across one of his pockets carefully before he turned his stare resolutely back to the Kaiba's.

"It seemed that the tablet was connected with the one that had been found earlier. From what we managed to decipher before – _before_ I had to leave it described some form of magical ritual."

Malik's breath hitched somewhat as he glanced nervously about himself in a manner that seemed entirely unfitting of his character. "That was when the trouble started. We don't know how they found about the tablet or why they wanted it but people started – _following _us everywhere. They were everywhere wearing black hoods and with masks. I thought I was going insane... They reminded me of..."

He shook his head again as though to recenter himself and narrowed his eyes.

"They were everywhere we went. Waiting for us when we left work – outside the apartment every morning. They never talked to us or even approached us.. They were just _watching _us."

Malik fumbled with the front of his shirt an glanced at the ground idly as he took a deep breath to steady his voice.

"One night I said I'd stay later to finish taking some pencil rubbing's of the tablet so we could work on them at home, Isis left and I stayed behind.."

Malik glanced aside and bit down on his lip, pointedly ignoring the observant stares that noted the distinct sheen that had taken over his eyes.

"They'd already killed her when I got there.. This.. This crazy _bitch _was just standing there laughing. They were _waiting _for me. They wanted me to help them – talking about if we told them how to perform the ritual that their Master would take care of me. That I'd be safe.." (**8**)

The anger that had lit up his eyes was bordering on the kind of insanity Seto had seen present in the boys eyes during Battle City. It was quite obvious to him that Malik Ishtar wasn't nearly as stable as he'd like to think he was.

"But I couldn't... _He _isn't gone you know. He never will be really – he's just waiting for the chance to take control again. Yuugi thought he'd gotten rid of him but I doubt he'll ever really be gone. If I helped those people – if I helped my sister's murderers.. I _knew _I wouldn't be able to keep him away. I'd be worse then _him._"

Malik had begun to ramble to himself, his gaze firmly averted from the Kaiba's before he took another deep settling breath and continued to talk.

"I told them that I wouldn't help them and they didn't seem to like it very much," the slight grin that flirted with the Egyptians lips was nothing short of bitter, "_imagine _that."

"I barely escaped – they're very good at inflicting pain... But I escaped and I ran. I thought I'd never get rid of them – I didn't even get to go to Isis's funeral. But no matter how far I ran or how long I hid I couldn't get rid of them. They were _everywhere._"

He gave a soft laugh and cast a quick glance over the somber faces that watched him.

"Then I met an old friend of mine.. You might remember him _Priest_. He goes by the name of_ Shaadi._ He was kind enough to let me know that I was needed here in England, brought me here himself. Then left me as he tends to do, right in the middle of the street. To my surprise once again I was met with the same familiar faces.. They really were_ everywhere._ And_ her.._ That_ woman_ was there. Just waiting for me."

He offered a bitter little smile towards the group and unwound his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets, nudging the tatty carpet with the toe of his sneakers.

"I guess the rest of the story you know don't you Kaiba? You and your band of merry_-_men show up to save the day and all that?"

The lavender stare that rested upon him was more then unsettling.

"Well Kaiba, I believe you said that you'd share your story didn't you?"

Set however didn't appear the least bit interested in letting the Egyptian skirt around the details.

"What's so important about this tablet?" he spoke up softly with a slightly narrowed stare in the boys direction.

"I should think that of all people you would know best Priest. After all – you did kindly leave your signature at the bottom."

Set's eyes widened slowly with faint realization and Malik's smirk turned somewhat cruel.

" - And yes. Before you ask Priest I did bring copies with me, I was hardly going to leave them for those Robed-Bastards to take back to their Master was I?"

Malik glanced away and picked at his shirt silently for some time before speaking up in a somewhat hollow voice, "you know what? I don't much feel like story-time now. I think I'll ask where it is they expect me to sleep in this place."

The Egyptian trudged away down the hallway without another word leaving Seto to slump against the wall with a slight grimace and Mokuba to stare after him with a sad stare.

"He isn't taking her death very well is he?" he finally murmured out with a glance in his brothers direction.

Seto shook his head with a faint frown in place.

"I didn't expect he would."

* * *

The following morning was a dank and miserable one.

The world outside was doused in fine mists of rain that caused the entire household to scowl out at it with distaste – either that or they were simply still angry with Seto.

Seto had come to the conclusion that it was the second option. Mostly due to the fact that Molly Weasley hadn't even _looked _at him all morning and the majority of the table were scowling at him in varying shades of anger.

All except the four teenagers of the household and what appeared to be Bill Weasley oddly enough. Now that he thought about it the oldest Weasley was getting some rather filthy looks from him mother himself.

Discarding the detail as trivial for the moment Seto cast a glance in the direction of Malik with a faint degree of interest. Since the night previous the boy hadn't elaborated any further on his story except for a cryptic muttering before they entered the kitchen that he wanted to talk to Seto again without Wizarding interference.

Mokuba seemed to have warmed to the blond Egyptian in giant leaps and bounds overnight and was currently explaining in great detail how he had beaten his high score on one of his games earlier that morning. Malik was nodding his head with a glazed expression in his eyes that made it plain he wasn't really listening to Mokuba but was humoring him none the less.

Set seemed to be in a decidedly good mood for someone who had successfully pissed off the entire adult section of the household the day previous and was currently bugging Seto about needing to be more focused in his Shadow Magic Lessons. He insisted that the only reason that Seto continued to feel so god-awful after using Shadow Magic was that he was unused to it.

With a faint grimace Seto took a long sip of his coffee and shook his head to clear it.

'I have work to catch up on today,' he growled mentally at Set.

'You can work _anytime _omote, what you _really _need is to practice your magic. Do you really want to be overpowered by those damned wizards every time you face them? I thought that you _wanted _to get the loud-mouth out of prison. You won't be able to do _that _if you can't even summon a measly Kuribo by yourself..'

Seto had the insane urge to bang his head against the table.

He was saved the need however when a loud eruption of noise took over the hallway.

He paused and looked around at the doorway expecting Tonks to come cursing down the hallway about the umbrella stand, instead however he choked on a mouthful of coffee and stared wide-eyed towards where Remus Lupin stood in the doorway.

The Wizard was looking decidedly pale and nervous – which was perfectly natural really as he had a very sharp, very pointy dagger pressed up against the flesh of this throat. (**9**)

**

* * *

Footnotes:  
1. Re-reading this makes me nervous. '_Singing _rays?' No – the magic isn't humming a cheerful pop ballad while it takes a leisurely stroll through the sky. Thought I should clarify.  
2. '_Kai-Imakhu_' – Imakhu meaning Revered one, the Kai referring to status, roughly meaning, 'exalted.' So basically just a fancy way of saying, High Priest. Probably how old Set would have been referred to in Ancient Egypt.  
3. Imagine that would you.. "Oh no! Not the dreaded _playing card!_"  
4. Funnily enough the Ancient Egyptians had a lot of traditions revolving around 'Sirius'... Just thought it was worth a mention.  
5. _Dragon Fetish Alert.  
_6. Hmm, not a single one of them has given Dumbledore a break have they? I suppose I'll have to make _someone_ be nice to him.  
7. Malik's going to have a _field day_ with them.  
8. Anyone want to make any guesses as to who the 'crazy bitch' was?  
9. Good _morning _Mister Tomb Robber.**:1. Re-reading this makes me nervous. 'rays?' No – the magic isn't humming a cheerful pop ballad while it takes a leisurely stroll through the sky. Thought I should clarify.2. '' – Imakhu meaning Revered one, the Kai referring to status, roughly meaning, 'exalted.' So basically just a fancy way of saying, High Priest. Probably how old Set would have been referred to in Ancient Egypt.3. Imagine that would you.. "Oh no! Not the dreaded "4. Funnily enough the Ancient Egyptians had a lot of traditions revolving around 'Sirius'... Just thought it was worth a mention.5. 6. Hmm, not a single one of them has given Dumbledore a break have they? I suppose I'll have to make be nice to him.7. Malik's going to have a with them.8. Anyone want to make any guesses as to who the 'crazy bitch' was?9. Good Mister Tomb Robber.

* * *

**AN**: This was a _monster _of a chapter wasn't it? Splendid fun to write as well – and yes, I finally added another YGO character. I'm feeling extremely proud of my accomplishments although rather unsure of Malik's characterization. It's not as if you get to see Malik in any sort of normalcy, he's either 'psychotic-revenge-obsessed!Malik' or 'Raging-Happy-Pleasant!Malik'. Both seemed kind of sketchy to me so I went in revamp mode.. Any suggestions very welcome, he doesn't seem quite right to me. Plus I managed to get some rather important arguments out of the way. _Anyway_, I told you the Tomb Robber was on his way.. Anyway, _thank you _for all of your patience for the last chapter. On to you reviewing fiends...

**LovingKitten: **You _really _don't like Hermione do you? Don't worry – she'll soon learn that she doesn't _quite _know everything about everything. I doubt Atemu would be very happy about someone presuming to know more about his beloved home-land then he did and as for good old Bill. He's going to be strolling further into the limelight soon enough. I have plans for him.

**Chelley Angel: **That's _part _of the whole ordeal but yeahp, It will all come to light eventually.

**Swif: **At the _top _of your favorites list? I'm honored.

**Eden's Echo: **You're _good _at these conspiracy theories aren'tcha? Keep 'em coming, they serve as a great source of amusement to get me started on the next chapters.

**Twilight Silk: **Well the Tomb Robber made an indirect entrance? But on the plus side Malik made his debut... Feel the _love _for the deranged Tomb Keeper.

**Nachzes-Black Rider:** Lol.. Yes we all_ love_ Pre-Coffee time. It's a wonderful blessing that we shall worship til our dying days... Another smart cookie who's catching onto my hints.. As for the whole Canadian thing.. -sweatdrops- Actually I'm a Kiwi.. New Zealander that is. Kind of like Canada.. With different letters ;;_ and_ we use the wonderful British-English spelling. Yes I_ like_ my U's.

**Viva Rose:** Yes, yes you are an educated person.

**Ciardra:** Yes.. The Pre-Coffee clan are a_ lovely_ lot aren't they? So charming in every aspect of their lives.. -coughs-

**lilmatchgirl007:** As you can see, I'm not so cruel as to inflict Jounouchi onto poor Seto. He's having enough trouble dealing with Set and his lovely house-mates.. But yeahp.. Good ol' Malik made his wonderful appearance to cause chaos and mayhem and inevitably make a general nuisance of himself. Don't you just_ love_ him?

**Crystalstorm21:** Hmm, I can see Seto making the threat of sending her to the Shadow Realm.. Especially_ now._ As for Atemu – well, we'll just have to see about him.

**Sadistic Introvert:** Everyones got an addiction hidden somewhere in their closet. At least Seto's isn't Midget Acrobatics..

**Taloa:** Thank you for ignoring my terrible grammar – it's the downside of being a lazy author on the verge of end-of-year exams. All my true revision goes into other areas.

**MotherCHOWGoddess:** Aah, you just lost your money. House wins! It was good ol' Malik making his presence known to the wizarding world. Dear lord.. The mental images won't stop coming now. I_ really_ didn't need to see the whole Darth Kaiba visions – they won't leave me alone. Soon enough I'll slip and have him start ranting about the force.. -twitches-

**Ime Back:** indeed. Thank you – shall eagerly await your next review.

**Dawn:** A wonderful thing isn't it?

**Queen of Games2:** Damn straight, I_ loved_ the plugs. They were_ so_ well called for.. We'll see about the Ginny/Mokuba thing.. That would mean I'd have to break her off from old Dean Thomas. What did Dean ever do to_ you_ aye? Do you really think the wily Tomb Robber would get himself caught by lowly_ minions_ of Voldemort? Where is your faith!

* * *

_Welcome to the Caribbean Love.._


	12. Castles and Kings

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Eleven-**

Castles and Kings

* * *

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

The Wizard was looking decidedly pale and nervous – which was perfectly natural really as he had a very sharp, very pointy dagger pressed up against the flesh of this throat.

The hand that held the very _sharp_, very _pointy_ dagger, on closer inspection, was decidedly relaxed. There was nothing tense or agitated about the way the long slender fingers cradled the hilt, nor in the wrist and lax forearm that draped across the Wizards shoulder-blades. The crook of his elbow was wrapped around one shoulder and with closer inspection Seto could see the wisps of snow-white hair that stuck up at unusual angles.

He raised an eyebrow lazily and shifted in his chair, ignoring the scraping of wood against the linoleum as the remainder of the table (save Malik and Mokuba) rose to their feet with simultaneous speed.

Seto realized with a faint amount of amusement that despite the inherent seriousness of the situation, the 'offender' was in no way serious about the threat he was presenting. Apparently, however, the Wizards hadn't figured that part out yet.

The Tomb Robber shot a glittering rusty stare over his captives shoulder, just managing to obscure the obnoxiously insane smile that curled snake-like across his lips. Shocking tufts of white shifted and caught the dim light with absurd ease. Somehow the effect of having such an angelic frame to his face made the expression he wore seem all the more sinister.

Bakura raised an eyebrow lazily as he caught sight of Seto and stretched upon his tip-toes to cast an eerie grin over the tables occupants before craning his neck over Lupin's shoulders to cast the same grin to his captive.

"You weren't lying to me then, _very_ _good boy._"

Remus stiffened and sent a surly look in the Tomb Robbers direction that was most unbefitting of his usual good cheer.

Bakura's eyebrow shot up another few notches, as though to make a point, and he let out a guttural snickering that made Set begin to mutter savagely within Seto's head. Before he knew it the Rod blazed like fire against his skin and the spirit had appeared at his side with a narrowed stare fixed firmly in place upon his face.

"You didn't expect me to just _believe _you did you? Come now wolf - _Touzoku-Ou Bakura _trusts _no_ man. But as _you've_ kept your end of the bargain I'll keep mine – that is when you tell your little friends to stop pointing those sticks of theirs at me."

Remus grunted something beneath his breath that sounded very much like he'd like nothing more then for the group of Wizards to start hexing the Tomb Robber with everything they had and Bakura's eyes practically radiated his glee.

His breath licked the back of the Wizards neck as he chuckled and drawled out in reprimanding purr, "now _that _wasn't very nice."

Seto had a vague feeling that perhaps he should have told the Wizard what he was in for when he had suggested trying to hunt down the Tomb Robber. But then again - maybe not. This was _far_ more entertaining then anything that had transpired during the course of breakfast so far.

With a trademark smirk fixed upon his lips Seto reached for his coffee-cup, his impossibly blue eyes still fixed firmly upon the hostage and his captor. Lupin's muttering seemed to have started anew with the Tomb Robbers taunting.

"Speak _up_ Mortal – how do you expect me to _hear_ you when you're muttering like that? - And you had the nerve to call _me _bad-mannered?"

Set let out a loud snort that caused the Tomb Robber to flinch, accidentally nicking the Wizards skin and causing a tiny trickle of crimson to roll down his throat. Rusty-crimson eyes shot towards where Set stood and a fair eyebrow peeked marvelously high in a questioning fashion, traces of a surly scowl beginning to emerge twinging at Bakura's lips. The High Priest stood magnificent and tall, cocking his head eloquently to one side and raising an eyebrow slightly as he observed Bakura with bounding leaps of disdain.

Sets eyes sharpened detectably before he declared in a scornful tone, "it doesn't take _any_ nerve, Tomb Robber, because _you_ don't have any_ manners_. Never mind the good and bad part.."

Bakura's eyes shimmered with fumes of amusement as they twisted to gleam with odd enthusiasm upon the spirit of the Rod. "Now _now_ Priest – someone sounds _bitter. _I know you've missed me terribly but there's no need to take it so harshly..."

Set's eyes darkened considerably and his fingers clenched as he narrowed both eyes at the intrusive Tomb Robber. His mouth opened to respond but in its place a loud snickering erupted to fill the air. Malik had twisted in his seat and was waving cheerily at Bakura with a decidedly _unnatural _gleam in his lavender eyes. The maniacal grin that put a large dent in the Egyptians face conceded a cheerful exclamation of, "it's about _time _you showed up. I was afraid I'd be stuck here alone with _Kaiba._"

Seto shot a dark glare at the Egyptian before wheeling his head back in Bakura's direction, surprisingly wearing a smug smirk in place of the expected scowl.

"I suppose the legendary _Touzoku-Ou Bakura _must be losing his touch – if you let two half-witted hacks catch you it's no wonder the Ministry of Magic got hold of you so easily," the scathing acid that clung to Seto's tongue did not go unnoticed.

In fact, the tone was _so_ efficient in causing the glee in the Tomb Robbers eyes to drip away and his grin to falter, that it was rewarded with an identical smug expression plastering across Set's face. Set eyed his reincarnation with an air of a teacher done proud by their student - Seto wondered absently if the spirit was going to start handing out Gold Stars. (**1**)

The pair eyed Bakura with slightly hinged eyebrows as though to challenge a response. Malik in turn leaned back in his chair to observe the confrontation with a faint grin. Seto Kaiba had been intimidating enough all on his lonesome, when you added _Set_ to the equation it was downright scary.

"I am_ not_ losing my touch," Bakura hissed out abruptly with a menacing glower at the two pairs of blue eyes that were focused upon him.

Seto exchanged a _knowing _glance with Malik which proceeded to infuriate the Tomb Robber even further.

"I _let _them find me!" he wailed indignantly.

Mokuba, deciding to get in on the action, rolled his eyes accordingly and gave a very obviously indulgent smile.

"I _did!_"

Set smirked privately to himself and casually leaned against Seto's chair, "whatever you say Tomb Robber.. We _believe _you."

Bakura's eyes flickered a shade of muddy sienna as his eyebrows contracted and his lips formed an ominously thin line. There was nothing that the Tomb Robber hated more then being _patronized –_ especially when the one doing the patronizing was a _certain_ former-High Priest.

Not only were they doubting his prowess as a street-smart _King _of the underground, they were _ruining _his grand entrance.

"Keep your mouth shut _Priest_ – Pharaoh isn't here to cover your ass this time."

Set narrowed his eyes with a questionably menacing stab of blue and found his fingers itching for his Rod.

"I think its best that _you _keep _your_ mouth shut Tomb Robber. Unlike you _I_ happen to have – certain _benefits _in my favor that you couldn't even dream of." (**2**)

A slight glimmer of distracted amusement flickered over Set's lips and Seto frowned faintly up at him, ignoring the somewhat dubious confusion that lingered in Malik's eyes. Mokuba appeared to have given up pretending to understand what the spirit had been saying and had resumed playing one of his video games. Every now and then he would let out cries of, "Yatta!" that both startled the occupants of the room and broke the building tension that Bakura was working so hard to maintain.

The Wizards in the room alternated in staring at Seto, Bakura and Set - occasionally glancing at Malik too, because the boy was _still _one of the oddest people they had ever laid eyes on.

Silence drenched the room in a sticky stupor as the occupants of the room continued to stare at one another in varying moods and with varying expressions. These were thoroughly entertaining for Malik to attempt to imitate and snicker at with juvenile enthusiasm. Seto had long ago come to the conclusion that living underground for so long must have stunted Malik's mental development – probably somewhere around the age of five.

It was when Mokuba let out a decidedly enthusiastic roar of, "_YATTA!_" that the room awoke from their various stupors and flung themselves head-long into action.

Wands were risen with vicious sweeps and angered stares, Malik continued to snicker to himself quietly and the tension appeared to be reaching its climax. Seto lazed back in his chair and began to toy idly with the Rod that rested in his belt, his lazy smirk was somewhat indifferent to the affairs of the rest of the occupants of them room.

Set was watching Bakura out of the corner of his eye with a faint smirk. The Tomb Robbers eyes were shining dangerously as he made a point of shifting the dagger to catch the light and in turn attracting the Wizards eyes.

"I suggest you back off Tomb Robber," Malik interjected with an air of boredom as he scrutinized his fingernails with a detached smile.

Bakura's eyes flashed snidely in the light and his head curled around his captives neck to engage the Egyptian in eye contact. Remus grimaced visibly and shifted somewhat uncomfortably when the Tomb Robbers breath washed over his neck.

"Why do you say _that_ Ishtar..?"

The eerie shadows that dripped across Bakura's face made a distinctly sinister picture to look upon. The Egyptian however, much too used to such things, didn't take any notice and merely cocked his head lazily in the direction of the remainder of the table – there were a considerable number of wand-points trained upon the thief's lithe form.

Bakura raised an eyebrow lazily before a languid smile drew his lips and he let out a soft chuckle to himself, "I'll be talking to you later – Ishtar, Kaiba_ ..Priest_."

All to quickly the dagger dissapeared from Lupin's throat and the Tomb Robber swept several step backwards, gave a mocking stage-bow and made a hasty departure via the eruption of light from the gaudy golden ring upon his chest.

Even the wizards could tell that the boy that stumbled somewhat dizzily and looked around himself in dazed confusion was not the same being that had been holding one of their colleagues hostage with a wicked-looking dagger.

Everything about him was simply _softer. _

From the large chocolate eyes to the subtle sheen that smoothed his hair – not to mention the startled yelp that escaped the boys lips when he realized he was holding a rather wicked-looking dagger oh-so-casually between his fingertips.

The blade clattered against the floorboards within seconds and the pale youth was stumbling backwards with a rueful tugging of his hair. He whipped his eyes in all directions, subtly taking in the layout of the room he was in and the number of stern-looking authority figures with familiar wooden sticks pointed at him. Giving a faint groan before he uttered a soft despairing moan of, "why is it always _me? _I swear – one of these days I'll make _him _deal with these messes.."

"First sign of insanity Bakura-kun.." Malik interjected helpfully as he took a sip of his orange juice.

Seto found a slight smirk crawling over his lips as the pale-boys cheeks glowed a healthy shade of pink and he let out an unnervingly high-pitched squeak of, "_Malik?_" that seemed to originate solely from surprise.

"The one and only," the Egyptian drawled languidly in response, completely ignoring the somewhat baffled stares that the Wizards were staring at the boy with.

"What are _you_ doing here? Why am _I _here? Wait a second - why is _Kaiba-kun_ here?"

Ryou Bakura blinked at the latter question before turning an even more interesting shade of pink and grimacing visibly when Seto raised an eyebrow lazily at him. He shifted uneasily on his feet and took a step backwards when the Wizard who was standing nearest to him (and also sported the tiniest of nicks in his throat that was dribbling crimson onto his tattered robes) rounded on him with a slightly raised eyebrow and rubbing carefully at his throat.

A timid laugh escaped Ryou's lips as his mind hastily put two and two together. The smallest of smudges of blood glittered on the edge of the dagger that had been in his hands and the wizard in question didn't look particularly fond of him.

Ryou glanced weakly from the dagger to the man in question and gave a small timid smile before glancing nervously towards Malik and Seto for some form of moral support. He was quick to realize however that he had probably been stuck with the worst two people in his acquaintance when one was looking for back-up.

Where were Jounouchi and Honda when you _really _needed them? Even_ Anzu _would have been considered helpful at that point in time. Or Otogi – Otogi was _good_ at yelling until people simply didn't _care _what he had done anymore and just wanted the dark-haired boy to shut up.

"I believe I already explained why you are here Mister Bakura," Remus spoke up with a detectable frown etching into his features.

Ryou didn't fail to notice the somewhat frosty tone that his name was uttered with, nor did he fail to notice that his weak smile was not returned. Shaking his head Ryou sighed and tugged habitually at the strands of white hair that framed his face with a rueful grimace.

Ryou _hated _cleaning with a passion.

It was simply ironic that _he_ was the one who always got stuck cleaning up the Spirit of the Ring's messes. (**3**)

--

"You know Kaiba – out of all the people I have ever known in my entire life - you are the _last_ person I would have picked to be stuck under house-arrest with."

Seto raised his head from his lap-top to cast a narrowed blue stare towards the blond Egyptian and humored the boy with one of his infamous scowls. With a slight wrinkle of his nose that made Set snicker to himself Seto deemed to reply with effortless disdain, "_really _Ishtar? I came to the very same conclusion myself ten minutes ago."

Malik's lips curled in a Cheshire grin and he slumped back into the sofa with a melodramatic sigh. He had found over the past few hours that there was only one thing worth doing inside the house while Ryou was otherwise engaged – andthat _thing_ just happened to be bugging Seto Kaiba. The only problem with that activity was that it often proved hazardous to ones health – both mentally and physically.

Staring at the peeling paint on the ceiling in bored fascination Malik turned his eyes towards Mokuba. The younger Kaiba was just as uninteresting as his older brother, muttering under his breath absently as he pressed fervently at the buttons on one of his game consoles. Malik had quickly discovered that the Kaiba brothers were all but_ obsessed_ with technology and he highly doubted that they would survive for very long without it.

Set had made himself at home lounging against the arm-rest of Seto's chair and peering resolutely over his reincarnations shoulder. This was something that both amused Malik greatly and annoyed Seto beyond words. The elder Kaiba had already slapped the spirits hands away from the keyboard ten times in the past five minutes.

"You know omote, it doesn't look _that _complicated to me," Set finally declared aloud with a curl of his lips.

Seto muttered something undetectable under his breath and continued his ritualistic pounding of keys as he sent the latest set of instructions to his 2IC.

The spirit obviously caught the drift of Seto's muttering and a slight scowl dragged at the corners of his mouth as he bent further over Seto's shoulder, his breath lingering on the back of his reincarnations neck as the boy shifted so he was facing away from Set.

Malik snickered to himself and stretched his arms over his head lazily before casting a lavender stare in the direction of the doorway and pulling a face. "When d'you think Ryou'll be finished talking to that old coot..." he questioned aloud with a quick glance in Seto's direction.

"I imagine once he's finished trying to determine whether we've been lying to them all," Seto mumbled back distractedly as he pressed 'send'.

As Seto spoke the High Priest stretched a hand stealthily towards the keyboard.

A harsh snap of skin against skin erupted and the spirit hastily pulled back his hand with a sulky glare in his reincarnations direction.

Malik snickered appreciatively before slumping back further into the sofa and staring with a glazed expression at the ceiling.

The Egyptian seemed content to sulk for several moments before trying his hand at engaging Seto in conversation again. Despite the futility of his efforts it was a challenge that Malik would not deny himself, "so - you're going to tell us _your_ little story when Bakura gets back?"

Seto gave a vague mutter of affirmation and the Egyptian grimaced visibly and turned his eyes towards the doorway expectantly. When the door remained firmly closed for the next five minutes he let out a purposefully-loud sigh and shifted his lavender stare towards the Spirit of the Rod. Set was now leaning half-way across Seto's lap so he could see the Laptop, which had been steadily moving further and further away from the High Priests technology-inept fingers.

With a sinister smile playing with his lips Malik rose to his feet and sidled his way towards Seto and his Dopple-ganger. Unnoticed by either of the pair and watched by a decidedly curious Mokuba Malik walked as casually as he could towards the pair and, as he passed, gave Set a deft push across the shoulder-blades before bolting back across the room.

With a surprised yelp that was extremely unbecoming of someone so obsessed with pride the spirit was sent tumbling right into his reincarnations lap, landing an elbow awkwardly in Seto's gut and whacking him in the face. Seto began to snarl in a rather inhuman fashion as his laptop landed with an unhealthy thud upon the thread-bare carpet and Malik began to guffaw with laughter.

Mokuba snickered behind his hands and pretended to be playing his game while eying the pair with amusement.

"_Ishtar.._" was the menacing growl that escaped the look-a-likes lips as Set tumbled right out of Seto's lap.

The High Priest began to pick himself up off the floor with a narrowed stare that was positively dwarfed by the seething venom that seemed to emanate from Seto's own eyes. Malik, looking entirely to pleased with himself, grinned his familiar Cheshire grin and waggled his fingers cheerfully at them from the opposite end of the room.

"Keep laughing and you'll be drinking your meals through a straw for the rest of your life," Seto snarled as he rose to his feet.

There was a mad-glint in Seto's blue eyes that assured Malik that his threat was anything but empty – the Egyptian had never been one to be intimidated however and so continued right on laughing. There was a slight _pinkness _to the elder Kaiba's face that made the whole ordeal entirely worthwhile.

Set, having regained his feet, looked ready to stalk right over to the snickering Tomb Keeper and follow through with his reincarnations threat when he paused abruptly with a curious expression on his face. Malik blinked and paused in mid-laugh as he caught the distinctly odd expression on the spirits face and raised an eyebrow in slight confusion.

The slight twitch of amusement that began to curl across the spirits face caused Malik's expression to down shift several gears into downright confusion as Set abruptly turned on his heel to eye Seto with a menacingly _innocent_ stare.

"What was that omote?" he all but purred out as he sidled a couple of steps closer to his reincarnation.

Seto's face shifted through several stages of confusion, horror and bewilderment before shutting down into a slightly haughty impassive stare and biting back smoothly, "I didn't say anything."

Malik's curiosity was suitably peeked and his mind began to tick over curiously what the pair could be talking about.

Set's lips curled into a knowing little smile and he took another step forwards to eye his reincarnation with a smoldering dark gaze, "_I_ think you _did_ omote.."

Seto's cheeks tinged the slightest of pinks and he met the others stare head-on without any signs of backing down, "then _you_ must be delirious.. I didn't say anything."

The Spirit of the Rod's smile began to stretch almost violently as he lifted a finger to tap the center of his reincarnations chest and raised an eyebrow lazily. A half-lidded dark gaze searched Seto's face intently as he drawled back with a mocking lilt, "_definitely_ not delirious."

By now Malik had begun to exercise his rather impressive powers of deduction.

His eyes glittered with amusement as he glanced first from the Spirit of the Rod whose movements had become all-so-deliberate and carefully illustrated; from the slight purr that rolled off of his tongue to the half-lidded eyes, then to Seto who seemed even _stiffer _then usual. His stone mask was firmly set in place and he was brashly meeting Set head on – the only indication that he was indeed _lying _was the faint wash of pink that colored his cheeks.

The only thing left to decide was just what Seto Kaiba was lying about.

Malik realized quickly that it was something terribly mortifying on Seto's behalf, the slight color to his cheeks was evidence enough of that. The fact that Set probably had a lot to do with it was also evident – the spirit was getting far to much pleasure out of toying with the elder Kaiba's boundaries for it to be otherwise.

Seto ground his feet into the carpet and drove a firm and unyielding stare into the spirits sly eyes. Fighting to control the heat that had shot to his face as the eyes of the room scrutinized him with the same damnable knowing look in their eyes he snarled out rashly, "I didn't say _anything_!"

When one of the spirits fingers jabbed him lightly in the chest again and that infuriatingly smug smirk surfaced Seto found himself dwelling on homicidal thoughts. Set drew another step closer, his finger still pressed firmly into Seto's chest and arched an eyebrow.

"Now now omote – what if you just _whispered _it in my ear? I _really_ think you should clarify what I _think_ I heard.."

The devilish gleam in Set's eyes made Seto out and out scowl before biting out sharply, "there's _nothing _to tell."

With a deafening click the door snapped open and Malik began to grin widely at the bemused face of Ryou Bakura. The white-haired boy glanced curiously towards Set and Seto and the gathered stares before musing aloud in a decidedly _light _tone, "what's happening?"

At the same time that Seto snapped, "_nothing_" in a decidedly clipped tone, Malik piped up loudly, "Kaiba's been seducing the High Priest."

Ryou didn't have time to adjust to either answer before a wild blur tore through his vision and Malik began to omit faint gurgling sounds that suggested he was having trouble breathing.

The expression that Seto wore so vividly upon usually stoic features was something akin to psychotic. It was an expression that Ryou had seen plastered upon the Tomb Robbers face _far_ to many times to not know the consequences and he found himself wondering if he should try to intervene. Then again, he hadn't quite completed his top ten list of things to do in his life before he died and he wasn't willing to take any chances.

Malik however was having a hard time just trying to breathe, the grip that had fastened around his neck was so very _tight_ that he felt like his eyes were likely to pop right out of his skull if he didn't get some air soon. Casting a wild lavender gaze around the room for some steadying force to pry the deranged businessman off of him Malik gazed imploringly. _First_ at Mokuba who seemed to be cheering his brother on loudly, then to Set who was commenting conversationally about what an odd shade of purple his face was beginning to go and then to Ryou who was staring at them with a faintly reminiscent smile on his face.

Figuring that no-one was about to just step forwards and help him Malik wheeled his eyes towards Seto's own livid stare and focused.

What happened next was the strangest sensation Malik had ever experienced. He could feel _anger _rolling over him like the ocean's tides – he felt as if he were peeling his way through layers of somethingthat he couldn't quite explain and yet he hadn't moved an inch. That was when he heard the voice – it was quiet and garbled at first, not making sense of any kind yet growing steadily louder. When he finally was able to understand what it was the voice was saying he realized just what was happening.

He had somehow found himself in Seto Kaiba's _mind. _(**4**)

Garbled threats rambled through Malik's brain at a speed that he hadn't thought possible. Immeasurable tides of anger surged through him, completely foreign to him and yet seeming to fit perfectly. It was mere moments before the connection was torn asunder and Malik hit the floor on his back with a thud and found air gushing into his lungs with surprising ease – he lifted his eyes to stare at the panting and furious face of Seto Kaiba.

Blue eyes seemed to burn right through him as they eyed each other warily. A deep breath filling his chest Seto turned his eyes slowly away from the lavender stare that was fixed upon him to survey the damage. Set was eying him something caught between confusion and amusement, Mokuba looked somewhat nervous and had fixed a concerned 'brotherly' stare upon him in a way that only Mokuba _could_ and Ryou was watching him with an unnervingly intense stare that didn't seem to _fit. _

It didn't take long for the odds to stack up before Seto suddenly realized that he wasn't staring at his classmate at all.

Bakura stretched his arms lazily over his head and cracked his fingers with a sinuous rolling of wiry muscles. His lips stretched into a toothy grin and crimson eyes flashed with amusement as he sauntered closer to eye Seto with an appraising stare.

"You know Kaiba – you're much more _interesting_ when you aren't babbling about how invincible your dueling strategies are.."

Seto narrowed his eyes and found that Set had at some point stalked up behind him and now had a hand firmly fixed upon one of his shoulders. Bakura took the action in with a slightly raised eyebrow and switched his stare onto Set with an amused smirk sidling its way across his lips before he purred out, "_possessive _aren't we Priest? But then again – you never _did _like anyone else touching your little toys did you?"

Set's eyes darkened menacingly as he moved to step around Seto before he was stilled by an exasperated yell from a corner of the couch. The spirit turned his head slowly towards where Mokuba was seated to find the boy was looking ominously like his brother in the middle of a less then successful board meeting. Set grimaced at the sight – it was _never _a good sign when Mokuba Kaiba started to remind you of his older brother.

"This is _pathetic! _You guys are supposed to be allies aren't you? Did you even stop to think about Otogi-kun? At least _you _aren't stuck inside some Wizarding prison for something you didn't even _do!_ – and what about Yuugi? None of us know what's happened to him! For all we know he could be even worse of then Otogi-kun... The _least _you can do is try and get along so we can help them."

The eerie way in which the light reflected off of Mokuba's eyes was enough to quell any arguments that might have risen from the throats of the considerably older occupants of the room. There was something extremely unnerving about the way Mokuba had managed to adopt one of Seto's more ferocious glare and use it against him.

With the focus of the room centered upon him Mokuba drew in a loud steadying breath and eyed his audience with a level stare. "_Now_," he breathed out turning his eyes carefully over the collective group, "I think its about time that we clear everything up."

A slightly goofy smile crawled across the younger Kaiba's lips as he settled back into the couch and curled his arms around one of the cushions to raise an eyebrow slightly.

"It's _story time._"

--

For once in his life, Malik Ishtar looked serious.

It was perhaps this that caught Seto's attention – and it was perhaps this that caused him to actually put aside his laptop and focus firmly upon the Egyptian.

It was late.

Mokuba had already disappeared off to bed without the slightest hint of a fuss. The din within the kitchen had settled into mild chatter over one last hot drink and Ryou Bakura had once again been hauled off for another series of questioning – apparently the Tomb Robber hadn't been all to willing to answer questions previously.

The afternoon had been a strange one, Seto had been coerced into explaining how he had gotten to where he was and Malik had retold his own story for the benefit of Ryou Bakura. The white-haired boy had been on the verge of explaining how he had gotten to where they were when he had been interrupted by the Wizards and once again pulled back into questioning.

A terse silence had settled between the pair as Seto carefully saved his documents and set the laptop aside to pin the blond Egyptian down with a questioning stare. He could feel Set's presence lingering just within the surface of his mind and was remotely glad that the spirit didn't make his presence known. For some reason he had a feeling that Malik was unlikely to speak his mind if he thought he was being outnumbered.

"What is it Ishtar? – I haven't got _all_ _night_."

The words were callous and seemed more abrupt then Seto had actually intended them to be but Malik didn't seem to notice. He twisted a golden bracelet between his fingers before leveling a lavender stare upon Seto with a half-smile that seemed oddly out-of-place with the uncertainty present in his eyes.

He didn't speak immediately, almost as if he were testing his words before he used them. But when he did speak it was brutally obvious that he wasn't pretending anymore, "I need your help Kaiba."

Seto was as startled at this revelation as he was at the fact that Malik didn't accompany his comment with a witty remark to hide the pleading that goaded the blond Egyptians words.

Unsure of just how to respond to the Egyptian he merely turned his gaze to meet Malik head on as though to indicate for him to proceed.

The Tomb Keeper let out a habitual sigh and shifted the bracelets nervously up and down his wrist before casting a somewhat uncertain stare back upon Seto, "I – I've managed to translate most of the tablet.. I have a pretty good idea of what it says Kaiba ..._You _have to help me – for Isis's sake. I need to find out why those Wizards wanted it so badly."

The Egyptian wound his fingers together in a nervous disposition that wasn't the slightest bit becoming for someone who usually appeared so self-confident and turned a slightly firmer stare upon Seto with the beginnings of a determined scowl.

"Ra help me Kaiba... If you don't say you'll do it I'll make sure that the Tomb Robber finds out about just what that tablet says.."

Seto shook his head slightly and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with what appeared to be the beginnings of a head-ache creeping up on him.

"What do you need me to do?"

The relieved smile that crossed Malik's face was the first earnest expression the Egyptian had worn all day, he seemed to sit up straighter and his smile spread into a much more believable grin as his lavender eyes lit up.

"I _knew _you were warming up to me Kaiba," he drawled aloud with a flash of teeth.

Seto rolled his eyes and leaned back into his chair, temporarily ignoring the faint beeping from his computer that alerted him he had received a new email and ran his fingers lazily through his fringe before turning to regard the Egyptian seriously. Seeing the true thank you hidden behind the grin he settled for drawling back at the Egyptian, "don't read to much into it Ishtar."

Malik grinned broadly to himself, making sure to flash a particularly wide version in Seto's direction before resuming playing with his bracelets in a decidedly better mood then beforehand.

When Seto abruptly rose to his feet and made for the door Malik blinked and lifted his head abruptly, the door had almost clicked shut before Seto caught it and stuck his head back in the door. The expression on his face was one that Malik couldn't quite place and the slight narrowing of his eyes gave the Egyptian the impression that he was a small child being put in his place.

"- And by the way Ishtar, if you _like _your nose the way it is I'd stay the _hell _out of my mind in the future.. Got it?"

Malik didn't have a chance to answer before the door snapped shut and the elder Kaiba's footsteps retreated from the doorway.

* * *

**Footnotes**: 

1. Oh yes, I can just see Set wandering around handing out pretty shiny stickers.

2. Despite how it appears – this sentence was _not _intended to be sifty..

3. Everyone jump aboard the Self-Pity-Party Express.

4. Conspiracy theories welcomed – lets just say that there are two branches of the conspiracy tree you could take this from and I'll leave it up to you to decide which way you swing..

* * *

**AN**: This chapter.. -shakes her head sadly- Lets not even get into that. It was hell on wheels to try and write, simply because I realized _after _I had posted it that I probably should have waited another chapter to shove good old Tomb Robber in. I had a hell of a time trying to get Malik and Seto's little conversation in without having the Tomb Robber shove his big oar in and get in the way. Thats why this chapter was more concerned with Malik then the Bakurae.. it's their turn next chapter. This chapter might seem kind of weighed down and drawn out – at least it does to me, maybe it's just that the last chapter had so much growth and this one was fleshing out that growth.. Anyways, not important.

* * *

"_I saw this picture of Johnny with his bandanna and dreadlocks and he just looked so cool and here **I **look like a bloody **ice cream..**_" 


	13. Destiny, Duty and Truth

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Twelve-**

Destiny, Duty and Truth.

* * *

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

From the very moment that Seto's eyes cracked open that morning, he knew that life at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had changed – and he didn't quite know if it was for the better.

It didn't help that the _cause _of his awakening just _happened_ to be a lilac and wheat-colored blur that sailed through the air with a flashing of gold and landed in a crushing and decidedly _loud _heap upon his bed, effectively smooshing Seto into the mattress.

Nor did it help when said lump of color began to yell loudly in a decidedly panicked manner at the blur that followed him.

"Keep away Tomb Robber! I'm _warning_ you -"

Seto caught a smudge of white from the doorway and blinked fuzzily at it.

"Since when did Polar Bears live in London..?"

An outbreak of laughter erupted from whatever it was that was crushing his spine into his stomach and a strange grating snarl emanated from the doorway.

"_Damn_ you Ishtar – I'm going to rip your bloody head off and stick it on my mailbox to serve as a warning for all the other _idiots _out there that _nobody _steals from _Touzoku Ou Bakura!_.." (**1**)

Seto groaned loudly as the heel of someones bare foot ground into his backbone and ignored the snickering that seemed to originate from the direction of Mokuba's bed. A haughty laugh erupted from somewhere above Seto and he heard a voice declare snidely, "I don't think _Ryou _would think much of the change in decoration Tomb Robber. Besides – I rather like my head where it is _thank you very much._"

There was a loud growl and suddenly the blurred Polar-Bear-Entity from the doorway dove towards the bed and Seto received a rather rude knee in the back for the efforts.

As Seto's sleep-ridden brain tried to decide just _what_ was crushing his spine into his stomach and assaulting his ears he did the only thing that seemed natural to him at that moment – he let loose a wild fist that connected with something rather solid and sent it tumbling into the nearest barrier with a loud thud.

A barrier that just happened to be the wall.

Raucous laughter rocketed through Seto's ears and tingled violently through his brainwaves as he groped for his pillow to try and stem the noise.

"Ra-_damn _you Kaiba! I _swear_ you and the bloody Tomb Robber are just as bad as each other..."

With a haughty sneer in said Kaiba's direction Malik carefully regained his feet before scowling pointedly down at the offending person and pointedly digging a toe into Seto's spine. He was cut off abruptly however when the relentless Tomb Robber renewed his attack.

It was thus, quite a strange phenomena when both Bakura and Malik paused abruptly to watch Seto grumble idly into the mattress before grabbing hold of his pillow and dragging it firmly over his head.

As though struck by some train of unusual thought Malik ceased his previous actions (which had _incidentally_ included smacking girlishly at Bakura's hands in a squabbling fit that had had Mokuba doubled up with laughter on his bed) and turned a gleaming lavender stare upon the elder Kaiba.

Leaning precariously over Seto, the Egyptian lifted a finger and lightly tapped one of the elder Kaiba's bare shoulders with a slightly raised eyebrow. A deep grumbling escaped Seto's chest and he twitched vaguely before settling down, his fingers digging deep into the pillow that covered his head.

Bakura languidly shoved Malik out of the way (incidentally back into the wall with another resounding thud) and took the Egyptians place with a satirical gleam fluttering through crimson eyes. Crouching next to the pillow with a twisted smirk twirling his lips Bakura idly reached out a finger and began to jab viciously at the nape of Seto's neck.

What happened next none of them had expected – the Kaiba moved with lightning speed, rolling off of the bed with his pillow firmly in place and landed with a loud thud upon the floor. He rolled several paces away before coming to a halt with his face planted into the carpet and readjusted the pillow with a sleepy protest about Polar Bears.

Mokuba guffawed loudly and buried himself in his covers again before he attracted to much attention.

One fair eyebrow hovered high above crimson eyes as Bakura rose to his feet, his head near brushing the ceiling as he eyed the now sleeping Seto with an amused smirk. Crimson shifted smoothly towards Malik with an eerie smile that made the Egyptian laugh nervously and tug convulsively at the collar of his shirt.

It was perhaps this that prevented Bakura from noticing the faint glow that erupted from Seto's bedside table.

When Bakura _did _notice Set's presence it wasn't because of his own keep senses or perceptive qualities – indeed, it was mostly due to the fact that the Priest casually stretched out a leg and hooked the Tomb Robbers ankles, sending him into a dive upon the carpeted floor with a satisfying thud.

Set's lips twitched into an amused smirk as the Tomb Robber cursed wildly and scrambled to his feet. He began to mutter savagely as he rubbed at his tail-bone a vengeful glare stuck like glue to Set's smirking face.

The King of Thieves did _not_ like being mocked.

Malik grinned appreciatively in the Priests direction with a brief nod of approval before turning his eyes back towards where Seto was stretched out upon the floor looking for all the world as if he were sleeping. He raised a fair eyebrow slowly before turning his eyes back towards the spirit of the Rod with a barely detectable trace of amusement flashing through his eyes.

"This is possibly the strangest thing I've seen in a very long time," Malik announced thoughtfully glancing purposefully from the sleeping Kaiba, to his brother, and then to the dopple-ganger reclining lazily upon Seto's bed.

With a cat-like stretch in which he subtly shoved something into one of his pockets he continued his train of thought aloud, "how can he _do _that?"

A flippant gesture in the elder Kaiba's direction extended the source of the question and Mokuba lifted his head from beneath the covers to roll his eyes with something akin to exasperation.

"Don't you people know _anything?_"

Bakura looked ready to interrupt with a maddeningly superior grin before Mokuba hurriedly continued, not quite willing to invite another of the pairs rampages upon the house.

"It's _pre-coffee. _It doesn't count."

Malik's lips widened in a soft '_oh_' while Bakura rolled his eyes.

Set languidly rolled to his feet and strolled towards his sleeping counterpart with a faintly amused grin in place, squatting beside Seto he carefully reached out to shake his shoulder. A sing-song drawl escaped the Priests lips as he leaned over to pry the pillow away from Seto's head, "oh _omote._"

Seto groped around for the now missing pillow and instead grabbing hold of one of Set's transparent feet before letting out a sleepy grunt. Set's eyebrow hovered uncertainly in mid air before he leaned further over to repeat himself with a slight flutter of amusement gleaming in his eyes, "_omote.._"

Seto growled something about Polar Bears and smooshed his face into the carpet.

Neither of them noticed the strange expression that Malik suddenly wore on his face, a mixture of impish glee and sadistic humor. It was an expression that neither boded well for the Priest and his reincarnation or anyone else within a fifty mile radius. For Malik had had an _epiphany_.

With a warning glare in Bakura's direction to ensure silence was upheld, he began to creep towards the hunched over spirit, an almost frighteningly wicked smirk crawling over his lips he paused for a moment behind the oblivious spirit who was crooning out another, "_omote_.."

Malik's face lit up with glee as he went through the processes of pulling several faces behind the Priests back before giving him a good square shove between the shoulders for the second time in as many days.

Bakura watched with a thoroughly amused snicker as Set spluttered loudly and turned pink. The position that he had landed in was not a particularly flattering one. Seto shot straight into a sitting position to stare around him with a hazily intimidating blue glare and Malik produced a victorious Cheshire grin before preparing to bolt.

When Seto was startled into waking his blue-eyes became a whole lot more fierce and the Egyptian was inevitably reminded of the much larger replica's that had featured upon the giant white-dragon that both Priest and his Reincarnation were so fond of.

When both Seto and Set rounded on him with identical stares that promised violent and bloody torture before death, Malik choked on his laughter and took off out the door with a parting salute.

"You could have just _said _you wanted to be alone! Won't _somebody _think of the children?.."

As one the High Priest and his Reincarnation clambered to their feet and went barreling through the door in pursuit. "I'm going to _kill _you Ishtar" was the savage promise that escaped Set's lips in a decidedly breathy tone.

Bakura's eyes lit up at the very proposition and he cheerfully rose to his feet with a slight grin infecting his face.

He heard a yelp from somewhere within the hallway and hastened after the pair with a slight skip in his step. After all – it wasn't _everyday_ that you got to watch your favorite spectator's sport up-close and personal without getting your hands dirty. (**2**)

--

Malik must have had a guardian angel watching over him, or so he later mused, for he made it through the twin-Kaiba attack with only a few bruises and nervous twitches to show for it. The only thing that had been truly dented was his self-pride – after all, hiding behind a certain Wizard with Otogi-esque red-hair was not the bravest thing he had ever done.

With a careful glance around the room he found that Ryou was eying him with an oddly blank expression that was somewhat unnerving – it was an expression that Ryou often wore when focused on a particularly _riveting _conversation with the ancient spirit that inhabited his mind. With a loud sigh Malik shifted his gaze onto Seto. The elder Kaiba had replaced his laptop with a series of smudged pencil rubbings for the morning and was wearing a narrow-eyed expression that suggested intense concentration.

Kicking his feet through the air Malik rose to his feet and strode purposefully over to where the elder Kaiba was carefully tracing the patterns of the hieroglyphs with one finger and mouthing beneath his breath. He near-jumped when Malik's shadow obscured the page and shot a dark stare in the Egyptians direction.

"It's written in code.."

Malik had to blink several times before he realized what Seto was talking about and leaned down to inspect the paper himself with a slight frown.

"Thats what Isis thought," he acknowledged with a slight frown.

Seto rolled his eyes and Malik noticed suddenly that the being he was looking at was decidedly not Seto Kaiba but rather the temperamental Priest.

"I didn't say I _think _it's written in code. I _know_ it's written in code."

Malik's lavender eyes sharpened and his lips drew a dark line through his face that looked decidedly foreboding. "I should think you _would_ knowPriest. You _are _the one who wrote the blasted thing are you not? You've been decidedly _quiet _on the subject so far – what is it that you're hiding from us?"

A slight smile quirked the corner of Set's lips as he stretched his arms over his head and raised an eyebrow eloquently with a mocking question flashing through his eyes, "who said I was _hiding _anything?" he purred out with a flutter of dark lashes.

Malik narrowed his eyes shrewdly and bent over the arm-rest, casting a shifty look over his shoulder toward Ryou who still wore a decidedly blank expression and Mokuba whose headphones were blaring energetic rock-beats so loudly it was a wonder his ear-drums hadn't exploded.

"I know _damn well _that you know what that tablet says Priest.. Why aren't you _sharing? _Is it getting in the way of your _plans_?"

Set drummed his fingers lazily upon the chairs arm-rest and his eyebrow shot towards his hairline despite the languid curl of his lips.

"I don't believe thats any of your _business _Ishtar."

Both nearly jumped when a decidedly irritable voice interrupted, "but I _do _believe its _mine._"

Set almost looked _timid_ as he rose his eyes to the semi-transparent form of his reincarnation. Seto was stooped over the back of Set's chair with an accusatory glare in place and tightly-drawn lips were forming one of his more intimidating scowls.

Malik shifted unconsciously backwards and glanced between the pair with a calculative frown forming on his face. Not one of them noticed that Ryou's _blank _expression had changed subtly and that the boy had shifted closer without them looking.

When Set became extremely interested in his fingernails Seto slammed his ghostly-hands down upon the back of the chair and his eyebrows contracted nastily.

_This _was the expression that any and everyone in Seto's acquaintance avoided like the plague – it was the expression that foreshadowed death and chaos and mass-firing of employees. This was _passed _the pissed-off CEO expression used upon time-wasting employees and girl-scouts. This was the expression that only came out to play when faced with murderous thugs and cartoon-obsessed game-creators who took his brother hostage.

This was the _real _dark-side of Seto Kaiba.

His voice was unnervingly calm and refined when he spoke, his eyes gleaming with molten fury yet colder then arctic waters – Seto had quickly made his way to the front of chair and now had the spirit trapped, one hand pegged down on either arm-rest.

"_Well.._ "

Set's fingers combed erratically through mussed caramel hair before he boldly lifted dark eyes to meet Seto's stare head-on. He composed himself with a breath and raised an eyebrow slowly in his reincarnations direction a doubtful shadow crossing his face as he muttered, "I never said I was hiding anything."

Seto's lips curled into a sneer of disbelief and he leaned further forwards, every line of his face told the story that he didn't need to put words to. 

He didn't believe a word the spirit was saying.

"Do _not _take me for a fool – I am not half as oblivious as you would like to think."

The displeased frown that strode boldly across Set's face did not go unnoticed and Seto felt his lip quirk with the tangible scent of victory within his grasps. The High Priest suddenly didn't seem so pleasant and his expression soured and his eyes glinted like dulled steel, he scowled at Seto somewhat sulkily before shifting his gaze aside with a clipped response of, "_fine._"

Set shifted irritably in his chair and cast a surly look around the room as though to ensure that everyone present was aware of his displeasure before raising his stare back to his reincarnation.

"Long ago," he began with a clearing of his throat with as much dignity as he could muster.

The effort was wasted however as Malik snidely cut in, "in a land _far, far _away.."

Dark eyes fluttered in Malik's direction with a glare so intense that the Egyptian took a step involuntarily backwards.

"As I was saying," the Priest hissed back with a slight frown etching lines into his brow

"_Long ago..._" having got to this point he shot a nasty look in Malik's direction to ensure there would be no interruptions, "_some_ time after Pharaoh Atemu sacrificed himself to the shadows in exchange for the safety of his people, the Priestess of the Tauk had a vision of the future.. The advisor's of the Kingdom decided with the knowledge that the Priestess had given them, that some preparations needed to be made for Pharaoh's next life."

Set's face twisted into an expression that seemed caught between bitterness and ironical amusement.

"In her vision the Priestess saw Pharaoh would, once again, be needed to control the shadows and save the earths people more then once. It was her advice that Pharaoh would require assistance if he was to succeed and protect the people of the world once again from destruction and darkness..." Set trailed off with a dry sneer and muttered absently beneath his breath before lifting dark eyes to focus intently upon his reincarnation with a frown.

"In her vision the Priestess said she had seen_ you_ omote. My future self – a possible body that I could inhabit for the purposes of helping and protecting Pharaoh before I had the strength to perform the ritual that I was _destined_ to perform."

At this, his lip curled in a menacing line and he tossed his head arrogantly with only a faint glance in Seto's direction before he continued, "before I was required to leave_ my_ world I was given the task of ensuring the magical ritual would not be forgotten in the process. With my own hands I carved out the instructions, carefully encoded to prevent prying eyes and unintended viewers information, before passing it into the hands of the Tomb Keepers, who over the years, were to keep it protected with their lives from the wretched Tomb Robbers and Thieves... It was my last act in true _life_."

Malik shifted uncomfortably on his feet before leaning carefully back against the neighboring armchair with an intent lavender stare pinned to the High Priests figure with a slight narrowing of his eyes.

"Then," Set murmured aloud with a decidedly quieter voice, "I did what any loyal _servant _should have been happy to do. I _died _for my Pharaoh. I spent thousands of _years _trapped in darkness, going mad from the monotony, the loneliness the Ra-damned _nothingness._"

His tone had begun to rise ominously as though he were spilling thoughts that had been building up with poisonous spite inside his mind for far too long, "and I_ waited._ I waited for_ something_ to happen – I kept on thinking that they had gotten it wrong... But then, after so many years of waiting, someone took the Rod and claimed it – I wasn't_ free_ but there was something other then simple darkness and low and behold_ omote,_ they brought me to you."

The smile upon the High Priests face was anything but comforting as his eyes bore holes into Seto, ignoring the way the anger slid from his reincarnations face to be replaced with a decidedly _pale _complexion that Seto now wore and the thin line his lips now created..

"And here I am omote, just as the Priestess predicted. Inhabiting _your _body, with the instructions in my hands and slowly gaining enough strength to do what I was _destined _to do."

Malik's eyes began to sharpen dramatically as the cynic's smile melted off of Set's face and the Priest slumped back into the chair sparing a quick look in Seto's direction.

The Egyptian spoke carefully, his tongue seeming heavy in his mouth as he spoke, "what is the ritual? What does it _do_?"

The Priests eyes shot towards Malik to peer at him with intense scrutiny before he spoke again, "the ritual is intended to restore the full power that a person once possessed – in both bodily form and magical energies."

"At what cost?" came the sudden hiss from beside them.

Set's eyes fell upon Bakura with the faintest of scowls falling into place, he had suspected the Tomb Robber had been listening.

"Come now Tomb Robber.. _You_ know the price to be paid when dealing with the shadows.. An eye for an eye.." the Priest trailed off with a barely detectable narrowing of eyes and forcefully avoiding his reincarnations confused stare.

Bakura's lips quirked as his eyes glittered crimson, his lips forming the rest of the sentence in Set's place, "...a _life _for a life."

Realization flickered in Malik's eyes as he turned his stare from Bakura to the brooding Priest with a widened lavender stare, "_surely_ you don't intend to.. Thats _crazy_.."

The Egyptian ran a tongue over his suddenly dry lips and cast a nervous glance in Seto's transparent and suddenly very rigid form. For someone who was supposed to be a genius Seto sure didn't appear to be catching on particularly quickly.

Set let out a laugh that was wretched upon the ears and turned his head aside.

The words that followed sounded dull and rehearsed, as though they had been repeated many times by their speaker, "it is my _duty. _My _destiny_.." (**3**)

It was then that Seto realized what was being suggested.

From the widening of his colossal blue eyes to the pallid complexion he suddenly sported, realization was etched into every line of his face. His lips formed a stricken gasp and he began to back away from the chair with unusual speed and carelessness.

"_Destiny.._"

The word came out in a feral hiss that stunned the occupants of the room beyond measure, Mokuba began to tug at his earphones with sudden alarm upon seeing the expression on his brothers face.

"No-one.. _No-one _makes my destiny. Do you hear me? _No-one!_ I'm not going to let you.."

The wild fury that rushed through Seto's veins was fueled by only the uncertain darkness that swelled and ebbed from Set's eyes. The elder Kaiba's eyes raged like a storm-tossed ocean and suddenly he was snarling in bestial rage and had thrown himself upon the Priest in anger-induced brutality.

Transparent fingers scrabbled and clawed with frenzied violence as Mokuba rose to his feet letting out a wild yell of, "'_nii-sama! _What did you _do?_"

Seto seemed to drown out his brothers yells however as rage filled his chest, "I _wont _let you sacrifice my life for some hair-brained _prophecy!_"

Set's hands scrabbled to seize his reincarnations wrists as he heard footsteps thudding through the corridors and a tell-tale eruption of noise from the entrance hall. The _last _thing he needed was interference from the _Wizards_.

"I _did _my bit! I helped the bloody _Pharaoh_ defeat that maniac over there – there is no _way..._"

The remainder of Seto's sentence however went unheard as a hand was clamped firmly down over the translucent lips and Set's eyes smoldered.

"Believe me omote, if it were as simple as throwing a _damned_ card around then we wouldn't have gone through the trouble we did."

An audible hiss of anger escaped Seto's lips and his free hand reeled backwards before laying a solid punch into the Priests cheek that caused a wince from the Priest.

"_There_ ._Is_. _No_. _Such_. _Thing. As_. _Destiny_" he hissed around Set's hand.

The sigh that escaped the Priests lips didn't go unnoticed, nor did the faint twitch of his lips and the unnatural sheen of his dark eyes. It was perhaps the lack of _fight _in Set's eyes that made him stop, his fist hovered uncertainly in the air as though to strike again before sinking down dejectedly and he met the Priests eyes with a faint glimmer of disbelief surfacing.

His voice was hollow even to his own ears as he shook off Set's hand and spoke the bidden question with a determinedly stout voice, "_why?_"

Set did not relinquish his hold on Seto's wrist and he averted his gaze with a visible shudder and a stiffening of his shoulders. "You _have_ to believe me when I say that I do not _wish_ to go through with the ritual.."

Seto let out a hollow laugh that echoed emptily through the room. "I don't know _why_ I didn't expect it. All my life I've been gifted with back-stabbers and traitors, I don't see why I expected any different from _you._"

The Priests eyes reflected traces of hurt and he absently tightened his grip upon Seto's wrist as he opened his mouth to reply, "you don't understand.. It's my _destiny. _It is the will of the gods... I am bound by _duty._"

Fire sparked in Seto's eyes as he swelled with anger bordering on something else, "_destiny? _You would sacrifice yourself for some lunatics idea of _destiny? _There is no such _thing _as destiny. It is an _idea, _a _thought_ – a _possible_ path that you can choose. _I _make my own destiny... I won't let you take that away from me Set."

The spirits eyes quenched and seemed to go dull as his lips omitted a faint gruff laugh that was entirely unbefitting of the situation, he stared faintly at his reincarnation with an unexpected dew attaching itself to the lower lashes of his eyes.

"You really don't _understand_ do you omote? My religion.. My belief.. It's all I _have. _I don't belong _here.._ This is _your _world omote, _I_ was never supposed to see it.. _My _world is gone omote, it's _gone. _All that is left of it is what I _know.. _What I _believe._"

Seto's lips twisted faintly and his eyes flickered with doubt, "it isn't _chance_ or _fate _or _destiny. _You are simply _here. _You can't change it – no matter how many times you say that you don't belong here it _won't _changeit. _Your _world might be gone but now you have a _new _world to live in."

Silence punctuated the air as both Priest and reincarnation stared at one another in a silent battle of wills, Malik watched on in silence as Mokuba chewed his bottom lip fretfully.

The change that sparked in Set's face wasn't immediately obvious, stricken silence remained as he cleared his throat painfully. His eyes were fraught with shadows as he spoke his voice trembling, "_omote_ ... I will _not _go through with the ritual if it means your death."

A silence over took the room as Seto inspected the spirits face intently as though searching for some sign of the lie he was sure had just been spoken. Mokuba watched on with slightly widened eyes, music still blared from his lax headphones as he slowly reseated himself. Malik watched on with a distant expression, his eyes clouded over and a small embittered smile carving into his lips.

_Bakura_, however, had never been one for sentimental moments – as he most _tactfully _illustrated with a very loud and very _snide _interruption of, "oh for _Ra_'s sake.. Enough with the _drama queen _act already, the bloody Priest said he wouldn't sacrifice your sorry ass.. And won't it be a _joyous _occasion when he tells the Pharaoh so."

Venomous stares captured the Tomb Robber in their sights and he let out a faint gurgle of surprise that would later be firmly denied out of existence.

"I've had _enough_ of this – I'm sure the _Yadunoshi_ would enjoy your soap-opera's much better then _me._"

With a parting sneer and roll of crimson eyes the thin t-shirt that the Tomb Robber wore began to glow a faint gold and a startled Ryou found himself once again in full control of his body – with several _very _poisonous stares fixed upon him.

A nervous chuckle escaped his lips as he glanced about himself.

"You know.. I was _just_ thinking that a snack would be nice," the boy chirped up in a rather squeaky tone as he scrambled to his feet and all but bolted for the door.

Ryou didn't stop running until he reached the kitchen.

--

The sun was already beginning to set when Ryou rejoined the sullen group, still gathered within the otherwise abandoned Living Room. There was a fair amount of distance between Seto and Set which only proved to intensify the frosty silence that cracked the air.

Despite the resolving of the issues that had been brought to light it appeared that Seto would not be forgetting that Set had _intended _to go through with the ritual from the very moment he had met him. Malik had hijacked Mokuba's headphones, unable to stand the tension within the room, and was now bellowing his lungs out in a rather disturbing image of head-banging and off-key wailing.

Ryou paused in the doorway with a small smile rolling across his lips at Malik's antics and the slightly revolted expression on Mokuba's face. Seto's head was bent low over his laptop and he seemed to be refusing to engage in any form of social interaction, a familiar stony wall had slipped tight over his features and he looked very much like the anti-social bastard who sat in the back of the classroom during the school year.

It was almost sad to see the elder Kaiba slipping into regression.

Glancing away from Seto, Ryou settled for shuffling into the room and finding a vacant seat, balancing a glass of milk in one hand before he settled down into a vacant arm-chair.

When nobody acknowledged his presence or moved to say anything Ryou's lips pursed and he found himself searching for something to say. Abruptly he opened his mouth, took a deep breath and said in as loud a voice as he could muster, "I think that it's about time I told you how I got here."

The startled stares he received informed him that nobody had even _noticed _him enter the room. Not an _encouraging _start but it wasn't one that was going to stop him.

Not waiting for any indication to continue, _except_ for Mokuba to pull the headphones from Malik's ears and put an end to the dreadful wail that the Egyptian had been omitting, Ryou frowned and began to speak, "I knew for quite a while that I was being followed – Yuugi and I talked about it for a while before you came back to town. That was why Otogi was walking with me that day, he decided that there was 'safety in numbers' and all of that – the fact that Otogi was there didn't seem to have any effect on them though. The Wizards didn't seem to _care _that Otogi had no connection to the 'dark magic' that they had sensed, they only seemed interested in making arrests."

Noticing that Seto's eyes had drifted upwards from his laptop Ryou felt a brief surge of victory flood him and dutifully ignored the sneer that filled his head, courtesy of Bakura. "They said that we were illegal practitioners of dangerous magic and that they were under orders to have us arrested and brought in for trial. I don't know _how _they did it but one minute Bakura was about to start summoning the shadows and the next I was waking up in a musty old cell with a pounding head-ache and Otogi was nowhere to be seen."

Ryou felt a faint smile brush his lips as he toyed with a length of white hair and cast his eyes over the rest of the room carefully.

"That was the first time I met Cornelius Fudge."

Seto bit back an angry muttering as his fingers gripped his laptop – none of them noticed the door when it swung open or the red-haired wizard that stood in the doorway.

"He was possibly the strangest person I've ever met – I have no idea how someone like _him _ever managed to get into a position of authority. He told me that if I pleaded guilty to the charges that he would give me a light sentencing – that I might get out of prison before I was 25."

Ryou's lips tightened into a sour expression and his eyes gleamed crimson for a second before resolving into their usual chocolate, "needless to say Bakura didn't like him very much... Apparently he had already been speaking with Otogi and that Otogi told him more or less the same thing that Bakura said.. To go to hell basically. He wasn't very happy with that."

"He left after that – and sent down a few extra guards. Apparently we were 'high-risk' prisoners and needed to be under constant surveillance."

The grin that flickered over Ryou's lips was definitely not imagined and his eyes glittered faintly in the light, "not that _that _did them any good. We escaped later that night – Bakura took care of the guards. We were trying to find Otogi when someone must have realized we weren't where we were supposed to be and so we had to get out of there. I don't know _how _Bakura managed to get out of that place – their Ministry of Magic is like a _labyrinth_."

"But we finally got out onto the main streets of London.. We sort of just wandered for days until Bakura said we were being followed. The only thing that stopped him from sending them to the Shadow Realm right then and there was the fact that they didn't _look _or _act _the same as the wizards who had captured us."

Ryou glanced carefully around himself and suddenly realized the wizard standing in the doorway. He blinked at the man in curiosity and found him staring right back, one flaming eyebrow raised eloquently over brown eyes as he leaned against the door frame. With a faint shake of his head Ryou resumed his story, "we let them catch up to us inside a little pub, Bakura made them tell him exactly why they were following us. One of them mentioned _your _name."

He gave a pointed glance in Seto's direction and said Kaiba stared stonily back.

"So Bakura agreed that if they took us to you Kaiba, that he would agree to their terms."

Ryou gave a faint smile and folded his arms conclusively across his stomach, his eyes shifting towards the wizard lingering in the doorway. It didn't take long for the rest of the groups eyes to follow suit and Bill Weasley gave a faintly amused smile.

"I just thought that you would like to know _Kaiba_, that Hedwig has arrived with a letter for you."

Seto's eyes widened somewhat as the wizard waved a piece of paper lazily between his fingers and Seto was abruptly upon his feet with a narrowed stare. He strode purposefully forwards and reached for the paper with a distracted thank you that made Ryou raise an eyebrow, Malik snicker loudly and Mokuba to bestow a reprimanding glare upon the pair of them.

The letter was lacking in detail or formalities and it made Seto's heart both swell and sink at the very same time.

He cast an idle glance in Set's direction almost instinctively as his eyes slipped over the untidy scrawl. His eyes shifted from Set abruptly as he dropped the letter to the floor and turned to stalk out of the door without a further word to any of the gathered group.

Set scrambled to his feet urgently and rushed over to scoop up the piece of paper in one hand, his eyebrows contracting faintly as he read the words inscribed hastily upon the paper.

_'Kaiba,_

_I'm on my way._

_- Atemu.'_

The spirits lips tweaked into a frustrated scowl and his words were heard by all in the room, despite the low volume they were spoken in.

"_Perfect_ timing as always Cousin.."

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1. **A modernization of that wonderful '_Pike_' system perhaps?

**2. **Gotta love that twisted little individual...

**3. **Worst possible choice of words for Dear Set..

* * *

**AN: **Blah, this is probably the longest stretch of time that its taken me to update. There were so many _possibilities _that came with this chapter – I knew _precisely _what I wanted to happen I just had to work out the finer details. Now that I've written it I don't quite know what to make of it, I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. -Blinks- Mixed emotions.. I told you that Set wasn't being quite as honest as he should be... On the upside I know exactly whats happening next chapter which means a hopefully quick update. A brief insight into the dregs of next chapter; Malik in a business suit and Heathrow Airport. _Anyways, _onto the more important matters – I wanna go watch Rove;

**ime back: **Cheers again, more then happy to clarify anything that confuses you, cause it's likely that _other _people will be confused as well.

**CaptainInuyusha777: **Honestly I did try for a nice fast update but it didn't work out that way. My final week of school before we leave for Exam prep – it was bloody hectic let me tell you. My english teacher is _insane. _-twitches-

**Millenium Priestess: **Aww, I only threaten dear Remus 'cause I love him so. He'll get his own back though – hopefully I haven't missed the insanity cut-off date. Can't have someones mental welfare on my conscience now can I?

**Skycat:** Yes! For each of the_ books_ I'm creating for this fic it will follow the events of that character through their eyes during the same time line. As for the '8' it's a dubious number – could be anywhere between 8 and 10. Depends on how long I manage to keep myself focused.

**Kurosaisei: **Since you waited so patiently...

**Nachzes-Black Rider: **Well Sirius might not be _dead _but we shall see about the Shadow Realm.. And as for the ice-cream thing, I'd been watching the special features of my Pirates of the Caribbean DVD and in particular the interview with the guy (whose name escapes me at present) who plays Commodore Norrington and he was discussing his costume in comparison to Johnny Depp's.

**Viva Rose: **I see what you mean about the choppy – it didn't quite flow as well as I had hoped.

**Eden's Echo: **Glad to hear that everyone is still remotely in character and Ryou isn't _quite_ so hopeless as he seems. As for Marik.. Well, we'll have to see about _that. _If you take a look back at where Malik has his little story-time with Seto and Mokuba you might get a hint or two. -yawns- _Rove rove rove rove. _

**Chelley Angel: **That's cool, I'm not gonna crack the whip at ya P

**Sadistic Introvert: **Well, we'll have to see where you think it's going. Though if you think its going where it _is _going then yes. It is going there P I suppose we might say that Malik's little journey through Kaiba's brain has to do with a _connection _of sorts..

**lilmatchgirl007: **Aah yes, I can just see our favorite boy-hero getting rather antsy about the fact that he has to put up with dear Snapey and Malik just gets a free ride. As for what Set has that Bakura doesn't.. We'll just see shall we. Though you are very much so on the right track.. _Harry _should be making his presence known around the same time that the Pharaoh shows his face, which coincidentally has a lot to do with next chapter. Mrs Weasley/Bakura clash.. Hmm, I was planning to include that _this _chapter but next chapter shall most definitely include the first of many battles. Don't worry bout Review lengths – Reviews are just like chapter lengths. The longer the better – the same could be said for _other _things as well. _Rove rove rove rove. _

**Crystalstorm21: **Bakura-kun doesn't give in easily but he couldn't hold on forever – Ryou might just have something to do with that.

**Destiny's Dragon: **Thank you. An update just cause you asked P

**Queen of the Paperclips: **Glad to know that someone appreciates the psychotic-flavor of our dear Tomb Robber..

**SS2 Megami-Sama: **Mwahaha, take that you fiend. Tis my dreaded _playing card. _With it's terrible card-boardy powers..

**KFF: **Welllllllllll... the Marik factor is still in the blanks.. Not up for discussion. That would spoil the show.. However it is entirely apparent that more interaction _is _guaranteed between Harry and Co and the YGO gang.

**QueenofGames2: **-twitches- Bellatrix Lestrange.. The _monstrosity _responsible for poor Sirius' death. -mumbles- I do enjoy making Mokuba act all bad-ass.. He's like a mini-Seto in training ain't he..

**Ciardra: **Thank you kindly.. Theres nothing that disturbs me more then a _nice _Tomb Robber.. -twitches-

**Kekewey: **_Pretty explosions. _Molly/Bakura tension coming up. Set screwing with Seto.. Well that's pretty much happened and will continue to do so.. Pre-Coffee moments are well under way though must be used sparingly.. As for the _last _pre-coffee moment, incidentally he stumbled into the kitchen without his shirt, though I can see how the mistake was made..

**Lizeth: **You _read _this. It was fic's like _History of Magic _that inspired this little endeavor. I've always seen Priest Set as I've written him – like a giant guard dog that doesn't mind having a snap at his owner once in a while. -Blinks- Flammable.. Inflammable.. They_ do_ mean the same thing. That's interesting.. I just noticed the whole trend with mornings and coffee that seem to open every chapter. It's the side-effect of my mind trying to place everything into a logical order, morning, afternoon, night.. Yuugi is coming.. eventually.. it all begins with an airport and Malik in a business suit. Can't reveal all the aces up my sleeve, Malik may have more magic in him then we assume.. The Eye.. Well the Tomb Robber isn't the type to give back what he rightfully stole. The whole, "in my day we had to walk fifteen miles bare-foot in the snow for water" was a clever little Mokuba ploy – at the same time as thoroughly mocking dear Set he managed to slight his intelligence. -prods-_ fanart_ helps me er.. develop ideas? Hint hint..

**Shi-Koi:** Yum. I_ like_ that description. Glad to know that it's so satisfying – hopefully it will continue to do so through the future. Your review made me walk around grinning like a fool for the rest of the day – I_ do so_ love to be complimented. Not that it's particularly healthy for my sizable ego..

**Kimpatsu-no-Hoseki:** Thank you.. An update for you..

_One trick ahead of disaster, they're quick, but I'm much faster.  
Here goes, better throw my hand in, wish me happy landings,  
All I gotta do is,  
Jump... _


	14. The Proof is in the

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Thirteen-  
**The Proof is in the..

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

"_Greetings to thee, Atum.  
__Greetings to thee, Khepri, who created himself.  
Thou art high, in this thy name of 'Ra.'  
Thou comest into being, in thy name of 'Khepri.'_"

Dim shafts of grey afternoon light filtered through his curtains, bashfully fluttering and flickering with the dance of the pre-autumn wind. In spite of himself Seto found that the voice that rose and fell deep and smoothly through his ears was a pleasant one. It was perhaps _this_ that had kept him from objecting to the spirits presence and rather opting to pretend that he was pretending to ignore the spirit of the Rod's existence.

The other occupants of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place found it quite the nice change.

The days following Set's confession had been littered with snide interactions and particularly messy confrontations between the pair which were not in the least bit favored by the occupants of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Seto had realized that his anger was beginning to dwindle however and was slightly unnerved by it – there _had_ been a time when he could keep a nice rotten mood in tact for _weeks_ at a time. This, he had decided, was most definitely the Priests fault.

He hardly noticed when his fingers paused in mid-air to hover over his keyboard, listening idly to the melody that wafted through the room, unless Seto was very much mistaken it was one of the odd ritualistic blessings that Set was so intent upon enforcing.

Seto had never seen the point in them himself – he had even taken the time to point out to the spirit that he was practicing a long dead religion. Set had quite bluntly told his reincarnation that if_ he_ wished to be eaten by Ammut then that was his decision and that _he _would have enough peace in _Sekhet-Hetepet_ for the both of them. (**1**)

A falter in Set's singing was enough prodding for Seto to realize his slip and he began to type furiously at the keyboard again, tilting his head forwards so that his fringe obscured his eyes from sight. Resisting the urge to shoot a glare in the spirits direction at the wave of snickering that filled his head he instead narrowed his eyes at the screen.

"_Greetings to thee, eye of Horus, which he adorned with his two hands completely.  
He does not make thee hearken to the West;  
He does not make thee hearken to the East_;"

Seto was finding it increasingly more difficult to ignore the mental jabs the spirit was sending his way.

"_He does not make thee hearken to the South;  
He does not make thee hearken to the North;  
He does not make thee hearken to those who are in the middle of the land;  
But thou harkenest to Horus._"

A faint scowl traced its way over Seto's lips as he peered at the sentence he had just typed. The fact that he was finding it hard to sustain any level of hostility against the Priest was beginning to get to him – after all the spirit had been deceiving him from the very moment they had met. Who _knew_ what else Set had conveniently forgotten to mention?

"_It is he who adorned thee; it is he who built thee; it is he who settled thee;  
Thou doest for him everything which he says unto thee, in every place whither he goes._"(**2**)

Every instinct Seto possessed firmly acknowledged that he should hate Set with every fiber of his being, he was untrustworthy, powerful and most of all – he had gotten far too close for comfort.

It took a moment for Seto to realize that the spirits singing had come to an abrupt pause and in the faint moment of confusion as to where the sound had gone he craned his neck up and turned his eyes towards the Priests location.

In that moment all of the effort Seto had put in to pretending he was ignoring the spirit was deftly tossed into the trashcan.

Thoroughly amused dark eyes met his with a faint glitter and Seto found himself caught like the proverbial deer in the head-lights. He bit his tongue simultaneously and averted his gaze back to the computer screen fully prepared to ignore both the metallic tang that swamped his taste buds and the stare that remained upon him.

Resolutely Seto focused upon the lap-top screen and proceeded to screen out the spirit from his mind as best as he could – not that it did him any good. A faint chuckle licked at his ear accompanied by warm breath as Set leaned languidly over his shoulder to peer curiously at the laptop screen – the grinding of teeth that greeted this action was followed by a sharp snap.

Blue eyes traveled from the hand that rested upon his now closed laptop to smoldering dark eyes and narrowed into a familiar mask of ice and stone.

"I rather thought we were passed all this, omote" Set acknowledged aloud as he stepped around Seto and sank down onto the mattress beside his reincarnations feet.

Seto regarded him in silence for several moments before he addressed him in a now familiar clipped tone, "passed _what_ exactly?"

The spirits lip curled as he watched Seto and a laugh fled his throat yet his eyes were sharper then ever.

"_You_, omote, ignoring my existence. Despite you being terrible at it it's beginning to get irritating."

Seto's eyes splintered as they wheeled upon Set, a roll of haughty laughter catching upon his sneering lips before he retorted sharply, "_irritating? _I don't take threats against my life lightly, _Set. _If you think I'm going to simply believe you've given up on your little scheme then you're even less intelligent than I gave you credit for."

Seto's lips slumped into a frown and his eyes hardened.

"What do I have to say omote? I _apologize. _I said I will not perform the ritual if it means your death. If you are so _stubborn _that you cannot accept -"

Seto let out a uncontrolled spatter of laughter that effectively cut Set off in mid sentence and caused the Priest to send a disgruntled glare in his reincarnations direction. "Irritating? _Stubborn? _If _that's _supposed to be an apology _Set _then I would hate to hear an _insult._"

The Priest's shoulders stiffened and his eyes, laced with malice, narrowed as he leaned towards Seto. "I don't make a_ habit_ of apologizing omote and it appears that the effort was_ wasted_ upon you."

For a brief moment Seto expected the spirit to simply vanish in a huff but this was hurriedly discarded when Set took a deep (and unnecessary) breath and regarded him with a level stare. "I've given you my word omote – I will_ never_ harm you or your family in any way."

A well of bitterness seemed to open up as Seto wheeled a venomous stare in Set's direction.

Set was beginning to understand that his reincarnation had a few minor issues with trust.

"Your _word _proves absolutely _nothing_."

Surprisingly Set's lips quirked at this, a sudden revelation having struck him over the head.

"You want _proof _omote? I'll give you _proof._"

In the case of people like Seto Kaiba what was more often then not needed to break through the layers of defense-mechanisms that had been built up over the years was a short, sharp shock – and this was _precisely _what Set did.

With frighteningly swift movements the spirit swept forwards, pressed his lips lightly against Seto's own and made a hasty departure via a faint glow from the Rod resting on Seto's bed-side cabinet leaving to Seto to stare with distinctly wide eyes at the air that the Priest had recently vacated.

After mouthing wordlessly at the air for several moments of goldfish reminiscent glory Seto managed to work a suitable frown in place that was viably spoiled the faint twitch of a smile threatening his lips. Carefully flicking his laptop back open he managed to voice aloud with as much conviction as he could muster, "you have a very _warped _idea of what constitutes as proof Set."

'.. _And don't you know it_..'

Seto rolled his eyes and went about retrieving the document he had been working on.

* * *

Ryou Bakura had come to the conclusion that Malik Ishtar was a closet handyman.

The insuppressible desire that the Egyptian possessed to _fix _things went beyond the normal bounds of what Ryou had decided was natural. The true puzzle of the equation was that Malik wasn't a particularly _nice _person.

Ryou figured that all of the business with the Rod and Malik's temperamental dark side had somehow addled his brains and resulted in another subconscious 'being', being created to attempt to balance out the havoc created by his more destructive tendencies. Or, _perhaps_ Malik's traumatic childhood had left a violently _Bruce Wayne_-esque need to do good and fix what was wrong with the world around him.

Either that or Malik was simply bored.

Ryou snapped to attention as he found a tanned hand waving energetically in his eye-line and blinked vigorously in an attempt to register his thoughts. In a decidedly less good-humored tone then usual he found himself disregarding his ever present policy of politeness and snapping out, "_what?_"

Malik jumped visibly at the tone of Ryou's voice and eyed the white-haired boy with a sense of curiosity as though expecting his eyes to darken into a vicious crimson at any moment and a familiar sneering smirk to arrive. When this failed to happen however Malik merely raised an eyebrow and announced loudly, and mostly for Ryou's benefit as Mokuba had already _heard _what Malik had had to say, "I've had an idea."

"Did it die of loneliness?" Mokuba mused boredly over his game-boy and received a face-full of musty pillow.

"You used to be such a nice kid..." Ryou mused aloud with an air of nostalgia that made Mokuba pull a face before turning back to Malik with a raised eyebrow.

Malik produced a smirk and announced smoothly, "_I _am going to fix all of Kaiba's problems."

Ryou let out a disbelieving snort and was suddenly rather reminiscent of his darker half as he announced darkly, "fifteen years of _therapy _couldn't fix all of Kaiba-kun's problems Malik, I doubt you could put a dent in them.."

A yelp of pain escaped the white-haired boys lips and he cast a rather sulky stare in Mokuba's direction.

"'Nii-sama does _not _need therapy."

Malik's lips curled satirically and he gave a snort of laughter that made Mokuba scowl.

"Your brother is probably the only person I know who needs therapy more then _me._"

Ryou raised an eyebrow at the suggestion and exchanged glances with Mokuba. Malik's smirk disappeared rather quickly. Before the Egyptian could begin to rant about not needing therapy more than Kaiba, Ryou injected a flow of smooth passiveness into the conversation by musing aloud, "about this idea..."

Malik's eyes practically glittered as he was diverted from the topic and he allowed a wide smile to cross his lips, "I might not be able to fix _all _of Kaiba's problems but I can certainly fix one of them. If I have to be stuck in the same _house _as him and the Priest and all their inner-turmoil and angst I'm going to have some fun at the same time. I propose that we fix the Priest and Kaiba up."

Mokuba's eyes darkened moodily and he sat up with a scowl in place, "I don't think Seto will appreciate you meddling.." he began warningly and Malik waved a hand dismissively.

"Don't you _want _to fix your brother? I mean – he does seem awfully defective.."

Ryou hid a smile at the indignant scowl on Mokuba's face and added a helpful, "perhaps he's malfunctioning?"

Another shooting pain ran through Ryou's leg and he let out a pathetic yelp of pain that made Bakura cringe with mortification.

Mokuba narrowed his eyes at Malik who he had decided to be the source of the sudden jokes at his brothers expense, "just _why _do you feel the need to fix everything _anyway?_ Maybe it's not _broken _in the first place."

The Egyptian gave a slight grin and fluttered his eyelashes at Mokuba pointedly, "I _only_ want world peace kiddo..."

Ryou rolled his eyes and heard Bakura gave a loud snort somewhere within his mind.

"Well," Malik declared aloud with a wide-grin, "I'm going to go see if Kaiba's still malfunctioning.."

He started towards the door but paused abruptly when Mokuba intoned in a sing-song voice, "_Bob the builder.._"

Lavender eyes narrowed abruptly and focused upon the seemingly innocent younger Kaiba.

Ryou appeared to have caught on to what Mokuba was doing and pitched in cheerfully, "_Can he fix it?_"

With a wicked smirk befitting of Seto himself Mokuba lifted grey-blue eyes to meet Malik's and repeated himself in a considerably louder voice, "_Bob the builder.._"

Ryou rounded off with a cheerful, "y_es he can!_"

"I hate you," Malik announced matter-of-factly to the pair as he strode towards the doorway.

"Right back at you," Ryou mused cheerfully as he slumped back against the couch.

* * *

Seto was beginning to think that starvation would be a great deal less painful then the affairs that meal-time brought on in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Sitting between Mokuba and Malik (who seemed to have taken a strange new interest in him for an unknown reason,) Seto was scowling down at his plate and the sandwich that had been forced upon it by an overbearing and still noticeably angry Molly Weasley.

Across the table from him Bill Weasley was chatting amiably with Ginny while Harry, Ron and Hermione muttered in quiet whispers to one another while shooting looks at Ryou, Malik and Seto himself. It was quite apparent that they were discussing the garbled pieces of information they had managed to gather about the three and just why they were in such bad favor with a large number of the Wizards present.

Up the end of the table closest to the dreaded Molly Weasley was an empty chair – a clear indication that the decidedly batty _Arthur_ Weasley was expected home for lunch. Seto grimaced visibly and didn't bother trying to hide his disappointment – in Seto's opinion anyone who collected _plugs _should have been put out of their misery a long time ago.

Seto turned his eyes towards where Ryou was seated to find the white-haired boy politely trying to refuse another sandwich from Mrs Weasley. The matron of the household had taken a shine to the white-haired boy, managing to block out the incident that had brought him into the household. Seto was fairly sure that she had convinced herself that it had been _Malik _who had been the one holding the knife to Remus Lupin's throat.

Lupin however was not quite so forgiving.

As the back of Ryou's neck began to go pink Seto leaned back into his chair to watch with a faint smirk curling across his lips. A burst of warmth from the Rod erupted and Set arrived, draping himself over the back of Seto's chair to watch with mirth shining in his eyes.

It didn't fail to escape the tables attention that Seto did not swat the spirit of the Rod away.

It was when a violent eruption of gold from the white-haired boys chest caught Seto's eye that he realized that this was going to be truly entertaining.

"In the name of _Thoth! He_ does _not_ want another damned sandwich!" the Tomb Robber snarled abruptly with a vicious pounding of his hand upon the table.

Mrs Weasley jumped with surprise and drew back to stare at what had been the placid-natured Ryou before composing herself and saying rather stiffly, "there's no _need_ to get angry dear."

Malik began to shake with convulsions of laughter at the revolted face that Bakura presented to the motherly-woman and watched the thief's sticky-fingers inch towards his butter-knife.

"_Angry_? Oh believe me I am not _angry... _Touzoku Ou Bakura does not get _angry,_" at this the Tomb Robbers lips curled into a sinister smile, "he gets _even_."

Fingers grasping the butter-knife it looked very much like Bakura was going to impale the womans hand with the decidedly blunt object. The whites of his eyeballs seemed exceedingly large and the crimson of his eyes gleamed like freshly-spilled blood.

"Put _down _the knife Tomb Robber," Set mused aloud in a decidedly non-committal voice.

Bakura turned an almost sulky expression upon the Priest and sneered for good measure, "why _should_ I? If _I_ have to hear the Yadunoshi whine about _one more bloody sandwich..._"

The curling of his fingers and appropriate throttling motions made the finer details of his threat quite clear.

Malik had begun to turn an interesting shade of purple. _Mokuba_ was quite content to cast smirks in Malik's direction and attempt to eavesdrop on Harry, Ron and Hermione's conversation. _Molly_ was starting to look rather appalled at the violent mood-swing the sweet white-haired boy had gone through and was eying the homicidal Tomb Robber with smothering concern.

"There's no need to get _upset_, everything will be alright.."

Bakura whirled upon her with seething bloody violence promised in his eyes while Malik looked ready to pass out from lack of air.

It was perhaps a very good thing for Molly Weasley that her husband strolled into the room with a faintly disturbed expression fixed upon his face and took his seat at the head of the table. Immediately Molly forgot her disagreement with the Tomb Robber and began to pile sandwiches onto Arthur's plate.

"They've just brought in another poor kid for trial," Arthur announced with a shake of his head and a faint sigh, seemingly not noticing the murderous stare fixed upon his wife.

Bill glanced up from his conversation with Ginny and spoke up quickly, "what was this one for? Do you think it's another trumped-up charge?"

Arthur adjusted his glasses and gave a shake of his head with a sigh, "barely sixteen, absolutely_ tiny_ scrap of a thing.. They picked him up from Heathrow Airport.. You can only _imagine_ the mess. Obliviators _everywhere _trying to wipe all the Muggle's memories.. More trouble then it was worth. Apparently he's been giving them trouble for weeks now, keeps on escaping.. But that's if you believe what the Aurors are saying."

Mr Weasley's gaze shifted from his son towards where Seto was sitting and to the spirit that was lounged across the back of his chair. "I believe you might know him – apparently he was one of the group they were trying to round up in Japan."

Set's eyes widened abruptly as Bakura let out a hoot of laughter and the Priest turned sharp eyes upon Arthur with a frown.

"What are they doing with him? Is it a trial?"

Arthur raised an eyebrow at the degree of concern that crept into the spirits voice and replied evenly, "he's to be tried by the full Wizengamot tomorrow morning.. Fudge doesn't want a repeat of last time.."

The Wizards eyes crept vaguely towards Bakura before returning to Set with a slightly raised eyebrow. The Tomb Robber was looking a great deal happier now, his unusually sharp teeth bearing a proud grin.

"The poor kids got absolutely _no_ hope of a fair trial – you lot have given the ministry far to much trouble.. They'll want to seem like they're taking action against it. Especially with all the ruckus about wanting an early election – people want Fudge out.."

Set's eyes hardened and he gripped the back of Seto's chair with a growing frown.

"Where is the trial to be held?" he spoke up smoothly and Arthur turned a suspicious stare upon him.

"If you're thinking of trying to break him out.." he began warningly but was cut off by a dismissive wave of Bakura's hand.

"Why would we do _that? _Perhaps a nice lengthy stay in prison will deflate Pharaoh's ego..."

The King of Thieves hissed aloud as a heavy clunk of gold connected with his head, before turning to glare at Set.

"_Watch _it Priest.."

The threat that lingered on the Tomb Robbers tongue didn't need to be spoken aloud, it was quite evident from the spark of anger in Bakura's eyes what he intended to do if Set didn't back off.

"Keep your mouth shut Tomb Robber – I will not leave the Pharaoh to be _imprisoned._"

Bakura's lip curled in a sneer of distaste as he rose his eyes to meet Set's, "oh come _on _Priest. You can't be serious.. I didn't see you marching in on some hero-mission when _I _was caught.."

Set's eyes glimmered with amusement as he replied in a lofty voice, "that's because it was _you _Tomb Robber.."

Seto rolled his eyes with a detectable shake of his head and watched as Malik plucked a toothpick from the table and began to pick at his teeth with a disgusted grimace.

Bakura scowled in Set's direction and made a distinctly rude gesture at the Priest and whirling around to face the table again. "I stand _corrected.._" he sneered dully in Arthur's direction,"it appears we _are _going to try and break him out."

Arthur Weasley frowned disapprovingly and glanced down the table for some form of support in the matter, Bill however, was proving marvelously elusive and Molly was far to busy trying to convince Mokuba to take another sandwich. He started when he found the spirit of the Rod stooping over his chair with an unnerving smirk upon his face.

"I _believe _you were about to tell us where we could find this_ trial_."

Now Arthur Weasley wasn't a man that was easily intimidated, while being generally good-spirited and even-tempered he also held a certain quality of resistance that tended to come in handy when faced with people like Lucius Malfoy or in this particular case, _spirits_, such as Set.

"There is no way of knowing if it even _is _your friend they have in custody. I really don't think you have thought this through carefully enough," Arthur began in a would-be-persuasive voice.

Set scowled right down at him and opened his mouth to protest yet was cut off quite smoothly by his reincarnation. Seto fixed the wizard in question with an impossibly blue stare that proved as effective as nailing Mr Weasley into his chair and directed in a business-like fashion, "we've done enough thinking already. If that _is _Mutou that has been taken captive then I assure you that it is essential for both sides that we break him out – if not for _his _sake then for the sake of your _ministry._"

Bakura muttered darkly beneath his breath and cast a sullen glare at a nondescript corner of the room.

Set cast an odd glance in Seto's direction that didn't go unnoticed by Malik who chose, at that moment, to drop his toothpick and add his own worth to the conversation, "Kaiba's right. I doubt Pharaoh's ego would handle being imprisoned – he might just forget his new Mister Friendly disposition and decide to give his pets a snack."

Bakura's muttering became decisively louder and Ron craned his neck around to try and see what the white-haired boy was staring at.

Set's lip curled and he gave an irritable glare in Malik's direction, caught between defending his cousin's sanity and smirking about it. Finally he settled on merely sending a particularly admonishing scowl in Malik's direction and turning his eyes back upon Arthur with a slightly raised eyebrow.

Mr Weasley's eyes turned between the group, resting briefly on Bakura with a slight twitch of his eyebrow, before nodding his head with a defeated sigh. "_Alright, _I really don't have a choice I suppose. The trial is set to take place at eight o'clock tomorrow morning in Courtroom Eleven.."

At that precise moment Molly Weasley realized just where the conversation had turned and she let out an indignant shriek of, "_Arthur!_"

Arthur cringed and glanced towards his wife, his mouth hanging open as he was cut off in mid-sentence. A wild blur of red shot through his vision as his wife whipped her head around, fury bordering in her eyes, "don't you _dare _tell them anymore! What if someone found out that _you _had leaked information about the Ministry to outward sources? This is _dangerous! _I won't allow you to give them any information that hasn't been approved by Dumbledore first..."

Bakura's hands began to twitch convulsively, his fingers flexing and curling as though longing to place them around someones throat.

Malik lazily inspected his fingernails with an air of cool detachment before raising lavender eyes to stare levelly at the red-headed woman, "I _believe _Mrs Weasley, that _we _can decide what is to dangerous for _us_. We have all said we would help _your _cause, the least you could do is humor us by helping us with _ours._"

The surprisingly serious tone of Malik's voice was enough to draw Molly out of her rant early (much to Arthur's relief)and instead turn her attention upon the Egyptian with a bounding level of dislike apparent in her stare.

At this point Molly's voice reached a pitch that made Ron and Ginny cringe instinctively and fight the urge to curl in the fetal position and play dead, "I think that _you _Mister Ishtar, are just looking for an excuse to stir up trouble. There is absolutely no _need _to go storming the Ministry of Magic! The lot of you will go and get yourselves killed _or_ imprisoned _along_ with your friend."

Abruptly Bakura whipped back towards the table with venom seeping from his eyes, the beginnings of a glow from his ring made Set start and send a warning glare in his direction yet the Tomb Robber paid no heed and let out a guttural hiss of, "foolish _mortal. _Touzoku-Ou Bakura does not take orders from weak, pathetic creatures like you. I _will _exact revenge upon those fools for what they have done and I _will _free Pharaoh if I so choose."

Hermione let out a gasp as the floor seemed to suddenly be crawling with formless seething _shadows. _Drawing her knees up with wide eyes she turned nervous eyes upon Harry and Ron whose eyes were intent upon Bakura, Bill in the meantime had noticed the similarities between what was happening _here _and the strange mass of black that had clouded the sky before Set had summoned his dragon. With a quick look from the blood-thirstened lips to the dangerously laughing crimson eyes he let out a warning snarl of, "_mum!_ Stop it – it isn't your place.."

Malik's mind seemed to be weighing up the pros and cons of having the Weasley matron out of his hair (and most likely in the Man-Eater Bugs stomach) and decided that he should intervene – mostly for the sake of Ryou's conscience.

"Tomb Robber – didn't your mother ever teach you to play nice with the other children?" the Egyptian mused aloud with an especially procured smirk and precise fluttering of his eyelashes.

The growling that rose from the bottom of Bakura's throat was deep and menacing, the Sennen Ring glowed brighter still and the shadows swept up the walls, seeking to cage them all. Seto rose to his feet abruptly with the Rod in hand, narrowing his eyes sharply in Bakura's direction.

The noticeably absent presence of Set was suddenly very present somewhere within Seto's mind as they stepped out from the table and the Rod began to glow a vivid gold sending shadows scurrying away like scolded puppies.

Bakura rounded on them with an almost feral gleam in his crimson eyes as the Shadows dissipated, before a familiar smirk crawled across his lips, slippery mockery rolled off his tongue as he swept an elegant Shakespearian bow, "I should have _guessed _you'd interfere Priest. Next time you pull a stunt like that you might not be so _fortunate _as to get away with it."

Malik clucked his tongue loudly in a disapproving fashion and drawled out as he stretched his legs up to rest with a thud upon the table, "now now children – I thought I told you to play nicely?"

Seto's blue eyes danced towards him briefly to honor him with a dark glare and the Kaiba in question snarled, "shut it Ishtar," before reverting his attention to Bakura.

What his eyes met however was the parting glow of the ring and the bewildered counterpart of Bakura staring at him with wide doe-brown eyes which were blinking at an astounding rate.

Ryou found that a large number of eyes were pinned on him with varying shades of anger, let out a sigh and mentally scowled at the smirking spirit that inhabited his mind.

'I hate you,' he declared passively within his mind.

'Same to you Yadunoshi.'

* * *

The frown that stuck upon Seto's face as he left the dining room was only magnified by the muttering spirit that followed him, two paces behind.

The fact of the matter was that not one of them had a clue as to where to find 'Courtroom Eleven', much less the location of the Ministry of Magic and it left them with rather a large problem. With the current level of hostility on the Wizards part towards their group Seto found it highly unlikely that any of them would extend any form of help towards them.

It was a hopeless cause.

Set, however, had yet to acknowledge it.

Set's muttering was beginning to get on Seto's very last nerve and he was very, very close to experimenting with just how much pain he could inflict on a incorporeal being. As he contemplated this Seto found himself able to drown out the spirits continual muttering and found the effect was somewhat pleasing.

This was perhaps why he was so startled when the door clicked shut with an audible snap and why he whirled around and turned the coldest of glares upon the person in question.

Seto was none the less, rather surprised to find himself glaring at one Harry Potter.

Harry, in turn, was rather off-put by the less then welcoming reception he had received and eyed Seto curiously before narrowing his eyes in resolution. When he spoke it was in a would-be-casual tone that was utterly spoiled by the nervous shimmer that lingered in his eyes, "Kaiba.. Are you – are you serious about going to break out your friend from the Ministry?"

Set whirled around to face Harry with a slight frown while Seto replied with a calculative blue stare fixing upon the young wizard, "if it is possible then yes. But it would appear that we have the minor problem of _finding _this Ministry of Magic."

Harry twisted the cloth of a tremendously over sized t-shirt in his fingers and eyed Seto with a slight frown. He glanced from Set to Seto and breathed in with a faint grimace, that gave Seto the impression that he was questioning his own sanity, and procured an obscure little smile that made Set arch an eyebrow.

"I think that we need to talk then."

* * *

The scowl that had come across Malik Ishtar's face was one that suggested he had just been hit with a rather large and cold wet fish. His lavender eyes held a skeptical twinge as he leaned forwards to push Seto deftly across the chest and sneer out darkly, "_that's_ your plan?"

With a faint grimace Seto idly brushed a hand over his chest with a faint glare in Malik's direction before replying with traces of a smirk, "_yes _that is my plan."

Malik raised an eyebrow and his arms crossed over his chest, tilting his head upwards in an arrogant fashion before retorting with a sneer, "I thought you were a genius Kaiba – that has to be the _stupidest _plan I've ever heard."

"I think it's a good plan," Mokuba piped up cheerfully with a smirk in Malik's direction.

Malik scowled pointedly in the younger Kaiba's direction and hissed back, "that's because _you _aren't the one they're trying to convince to walk into the middle of a Wizarding Court and pretend to be some – some _lawyer.. _It's insane!"

"I thought that was your specialty Ishtar.." Bakura piped up boredly, toying listlessly with the blade of a wicked-looking dagger that Seto was sure Ryou had disposed of several days ago.

A narrowed lavender glare rested upon the Tomb Robber as he began to snicker to himself and nip the edges of his fingers with the blade. Malik pulled a face in Bakura's direction and turned back to Seto with a narrowed stare, "_listen _Kaiba. Not even those Wizards are gullible enough to believe I'm Pharaoh's _lawyer_.. I bet they don't even _allow_ lawyers.."

A slight clearing of the throat from the direction that Harry sat in made Malik shoot an irritable glare at the Wizard as well.

Seto raised an eyebrow smoothly, "they don't _need _to believe you're a lawyer. You just have to keep them distracted long enough for Bakura and I to get a good look around before we get Mutou out of there."

Malik let out a snort of disgust and turned his head aside obstinately, "do I _look _like a lawyer to you Kaiba?"

At this Mokuba's face brightened and he interrupted with the smallest of smirks fluttering across his lips, "we can_ fix_ that."

The pointed lavender glare that rested upon him did nothing to quell the good mood that the younger Kaiba appeared to be in as he smirked down at his game-boy. Turning his eyes back to Seto Malik found a similar smirk implanted in the older Kaiba's lips and felt an ominous roll of thunder rip through him. He whipped his head around in Harry's direction and narrowed his eyes shrewdly, "I want you to know that I'm blaming all of this on you."

Harry raised an eyebrow slightly yet said nothing, quite content to wait until the _real _bombshell hit.

Malik's eyes suddenly seemed to catch on to something and he whipped around to eye Mokuba with a narrowed stare, "what _exactly _do you mean, 'we can fix that?'"

A snicker thrummed from Bakura's direction and Malik began to feel slightly uneasy.

Mokuba paused his game and set the console aside with a miniature smirk forming upon his lips, he glanced swiftly in Bakura's direction.

"You see... Ryou had this idea.."

Malik didn't like the sound of it at all.

"Let's just say you'll be working in style."

Malik was starting to realize just why nobody stole from the King of Thieves.

* * *

**Footnotes: **

**1. **_Sekhtet-Hetepet _are the 'Fields of Peace'. This is where the Egyptians who passed Maat's judgment favorably supposedly went in the Afterlife.  
**2. **This is a Hymn to the Sun God..

* * *

**AN**: Major apologies are in order! I have simply been to busy to update, am really still to busy to update but thought I should do so before I drove you all insane. Exams, assessments and design/art folios aside – that was your chapter and to sweeten up the deal, Atemu's grand appearance features next chapter. Hopefully I should start getting the chapters out faster after this coming Tuesday. Final Exam ; Can't wait.

* * *

_Hail Lord Ilpalazzo!_


	15. The Ministry of Magic

**Summary**: Things aren't quite going as planned for Seto Kaiba. On his return from America he vowed to spend more time with his younger brother – instead he finds himself engulfed in a sinister game. Chosen by the Sennen Rod he unwittingly becomes part of the 'Egyptian Fairytale' he has always scorned. Hunted by wielders of a strange, modern magic Seto finds himself spirited away by a more-then-reluctant traveling companion and involved in a sinister plot to overthrow the government. All Seto wanted was to spend some time with his little brother. What he got was a magical revolution – and Severus Snape.

**Warnings: **Possibilities of future Shounen Ai, nasty language and death.

---

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Fourteen-**

The Ministry of Magic

---

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

It was still dark.

Seto Kaiba had come to this conclusion after a long and blank bout of staring at the ceiling. The sun had yet to rise - and he was _awake_. The _last _time he had been awake before the sun had risen was when he was still in Domino, when he had been on his way to work.

It took a while for Seto to realize just why he was awake, but when he realized he suddenly acknowledged that it wasn't as strange as one would assume.

After all, it wasn't an everyday occurrence to wake up with a bad-tempered Malik Ishtar (wearing an extremely_ expensive_ and extremely well-tailored black business-suit which formerly belonged to one Seto Kaiba) leering at you from your doorway. Seto blinked blandly in the Egyptians direction before realizing his mistake and replacing his blank stare with a suitably haughty scowl.

The Egyptian replied with a haughty and decidedly indignant scowl of his own, (noticeably_ different_ from his usual '_I'm-Planning-To-Take-Over-The-World-And-You-Won't-See-It-Coming_' smirk **(1**) and narrowed lavender eyes with a deranged twitch threatening his fair eyebrows.

"Get up Kaiba – if I have to wear this – this _thing. _Then _you _have to get out of bed before the bloody sun rises."

Seto watched with twitches of amusement as Malik scrabbled with the Windsor at his throat and scowled down at the formal tie that contrasted sharply with the stark white of his shirt. It wasn't that he looked _bad _in the suit – Malik was _far_ too self-aware to even contemplate saying anything as plainly idiotic as _that –_ he just hated the fact that it was so _formal. _

Malik had the faintest suspicion that Ryou Bakura took pleasure in making him as uncomfortable as humanly possible.

When Seto's eyes began to glaze over again, undoubtedly due to a lapse in the Caffeine in his bloodstream, Malik was hit with a spark of inspiration.

The Egyptian practically smoldered with a need for vengeance against those who had done wrong against him.

Seto had _oh-so-helpfully _provided the business-suit that he was being forced to wear. _Ryou_ had seen to the alterations, which in itself had been a curiosity to Malik (Ryou had matter-of-factly stated that when you live alone you need to know how to sew – Malik wasn't quite sure if he believed him). Mokuba had been the puppeteer who had initiated the whole fiasco (apparently in the kids _warped _mind Malik made a perfectly reasonable candidate for the position of Defense Lawyer) and the Tomb Robber had simply pitched in where-ever he could for the sake of it.

With his first real smirk of the day Malik swaggered over towards where Seto was lying in a semi-conscious state, his eyes practically shimmered as he languidly stooped over the elder Kaiba and drawled out, "_Kaaaaaaiiiiiiiibbaaaaaaa._"

A grunt of acknowledgment was received and the Egyptian smirked to himself, "Kaiba.. Tell me again why you and the Priest made up?"

The somewhat muffled response that Malik got was still perfectly audible and was perhaps the reason that several moments later the Egyptian left the room with decidedly wider eyes then he usually sported. For the words that left Seto's lips were as unexpected as had the Tomb Robber suddenly declared his undying love for the Pharaoh.

Malik was fairly certain he'd heard Seto wrong.

"He – _what _sorry?"

A sleepy grunt retorted in a much too matter-of-fact tone, "he _kissed _me Ishtar, do I have to write it down for you or do you think you've got it this time?"

The fact that Seto could be sarcastic when he was half-conscious was entirely overlooked by the Egyptian who still appeared to be hung up on the word 'kissed'.

Malik opened his mouth to respond, found all sense of equilibrium had hurriedly fled his brain and instead turned and made to leave. This was prevented however by a translucent hand clamping down on his shoulder and hauling him around.

Set's eyes gleamed eerily as he leaned forwards lazily to pin the Egyptian down under his stare. "Just so you know Ishtar.. If you breathe _one _word of what you just heard to _anyone _I'll feed you to my blue eyes," the fact that the entire sentence was said in such a cheerful manner made Malik feel slightly uneasy.

It was rather apparent that the spirit of the Rod wasn't joking.

" - And I _will _know Ishtar. Remember, I've got my eye on you."

Malik coughed and attempted once again to loosen the Windsor at his neck before speaking up rather short of his usual bold tone, "isn't that a felony?"

A smirk dawned upon Set's face and he lazily dropped his hand from the Egyptians shoulder. An eyebrow lazily hitched ever so slightly upwards as he eyed the Tomb Keeper with amusement.

"See Ishtar – you sound like a lawyer already."

--

Perhaps it was the lack of light, or simply the early hour of the morning that was to blame for Seto's lack of perception that morning. As it was he had almost tripped right over Harry on his way down the stairs before he saw him and had to step hastily to the side to prevent a collision.

With a growl the elder Kaiba turned to give the wizard a particularly nasty glare and found with some irritation that Harry had failed to even notice him. Raising an eyebrow slightly Seto paused on his step and determinedly waited for the other boy to acknowledge his presence.

As time filtered past Seto was beginning to think that the boy was really asleep (he certainly _was _strange enough to merit sleeping with his eyes open), there certainly was a strange vagueness about him that didn't seem entirely befitting of how Seto had seen him in the past.

Wondering briefly if he should try to wake him up he was saved the trouble, for with a slight frown affixed to his face Set appeared on the step behind the boy and without a word in Seto's direction lazily tapped him on the shoulder. Harry jumped visibly and the glaze left his eyes as he turned to blink at the spirit of the Rod who scowled pointedly at him before pointing out loudly, "you're blocking the stairs."

Harry stared at him blankly for a few seconds before grunting out a decidedly unapologetic, "sorry" and rising to his feet to trundle the rest of the way down the stairs and disappear into the kitchen.

Set's lip curled in a sneer and he glanced towards Seto with a slight raise of his eyebrow.

Seto was still rather disgruntled about not getting an apology.

"That kids even stranger then you are omote," the spirit acknowledged aloud with the faintest smirk twitching at his lips.

"You're deluding yourself Priest – that kid can't even compare with Kaiba," came the snide response from behind the pair.

Set whipped his head around to narrow his eyes irritably at the offending person and upon realizing who it was, added a scowl for good measure. The Tomb Robber was looking especially smug (which probably had a lot to do with the impending mission of chaos and destruction), his eyes had an unnaturally sharp gleam and his smirk was slightly wider then was physically possible.

"Keep your mouth shut Tomb Robber, I would _hate_ to have to dispose of you before you do something useful in your existence."

Bakura merely smirked, his eyes gleaming brilliant crimson in the dull light and prodded Set rudely in the back of the head, "we all know you don't mean that Priest. _You _couldn't get rid of me even if you wanted to - and you were calling _who _exactly useless?"

The sing-song tone of the Tomb Robber's voice was filled with some hidden _knowledge – _it was the kind of tone that Seto had often heard in the Pharaoh's voice when he knew some infuriating detail that Seto didn't. Apparently Set had picked up on it as well as he laid a careful frown upon the King of Thieves and pinned him down with dark eyes.

"What do you want Tomb Robber?" he growled out abruptly.

Bakura's eyes lit up and a small smirk tugged at his lips, his head cocked lazily to one side as he descended another step. Every movement he made was slow and deliberate and Seto was suddenly put in mind of a hunter stalking it's prey – the light played eerily upon the spirit of the Rings bloodstained pupils and the Sennen Ring gleamed in the dull light of a rainy London morning.

"I _want_ you to get out of my way – you're blocking the stairs." (**2**)

--

"Are you sure you know where you're going?"

Seto fought the urge to plunge the very _sharp _very _pointy _edge of the Sennen Rod right into the Malik's back as he whined (for what was _incidentally_ the twenty-second time that morning) at Harry in a very haughty and disbelieving voice.

It was a wonder that Harry hadn't pulled his wand on the Egyptian yet.

Seto had noticed the slight twitch which deepened Harry's frown as he trudged down the footpath, the silken material of his invisibility cloak rubbed against his stomach from where he had stuffed it down his sweater and fought the shiver that rolled through his skin.

The morning had dawned uncharacteristically stormy in London, the streets were plagued with a bitterly cold wind which ripped through the streets bringing with it sheets of rain which had successfully soaked the company right through the second they had walked out of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

Any onlookers would never have guessed that the group of teenagers (who rather resembled something that someone had fished out of their swimming pool at the beginning of summer) were on a mission to free a former-Pharaoh from the grasps of a Magical Government. But then again – they never would have guessed that there _was_ a Magical Government so it was rather a long shot in the first place.

Bakura's smirk had quickly dissapeared when faced with the less then desirable weather and he turned an irritable scowl upon where Set was lazily strolling along-side Seto, looking rather pleased with himself as the rain drove straight through him.

With crimson eyes narrowing further at having seen the Priest quite happily strolling through the storm unaffected he sneered out, "Ra-damn you Priest, tell your _god _that I don't appreciate his sense of humor – he can keep his blasted storms to himself."

Set raised an eyebrow eloquently and turned to look over his shoulder at the Tomb Robber with a slight smirk touching his lips, "I thought you would be happy Tomb Robber, _Set _has blessed our mission. That is what you came here for isn't it? Destruction and disorder?" (**3**)

Bakura muttered darkly beneath his breath and tossed his head aside with a huff, "I don't need a _god _to cause destruction.."

"Nope – you've got me," Malik interrupted with a faint smirk touching his lips, his hands running absently through the ponytail that his hair had been forcibly tied up in.

The Tomb Robber cast a glare in Malik's direction who merely raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"We're here," Harry interrupted in a slightly irritable voice.

Malik glanced up blankly and turned upon Harry with an indignant growl, "this isn't your bloody ministry, this is a _train station_."

Harry raised an eyebrow slightly and turned back towards the group, (obviously fighting some burning urge to hex the Egyptian and run away laughing maniacally), in an even voice he replied, "I'm aware that this is a train station – we have to take the train further into London. Unless _you _want to pay for a taxi that is.."

A smirk crossed Malik's lips as he whirled on one foot to face Seto with a fluttering of his eyelashes, "well it looks like you're finally going to be of some use to us after all."

--

Yuugi Mutou was beginning to feel rather apprehensive about the entire ordeal.

Not that he didn't have very good reason of course – the fifty pompous wizards (fitted in a _lovely_ shade of plum) that were currently staring down their noses at him were quite enough reason for the King of Games to be fretting. Not to mention of course the rather unfriendly chains that currently bound him in his less then comfortable chair.

No – the King of Games wasn't feeling particularly confident at all.

Glancing over the line of faces that currently frowned down at him Yuugi found the face of the one person he recognized and found himself grimacing in spite of himself. The man went by the name of Cornelius Fudge and was short and stout with a strange tendency to wear lime-green bowler hats – though he had rather thoughtfully disposed of it on this occasion.

Yuugi had only spoken to him once in the short amount of time he had spent in the wizarding world but (with some strong advice from his other half) had quickly determined he was a certifiable git. The true irony of the matter was that that particular certifiable git happened to be the one with the power to determine his freedom.

Yuugi truly hated irony.

With a sigh the young King of Games lifted his head to watch the man carefully, a strange itching had formed on his nose and the inability to scratch it was quickly becoming irritating.

"Let's begin shall we? - I don't wish to _waste _any more time then we already have."

Fudge cast a particularly indulgent smile towards Yuugi before turning back to glance along the bench of wizards to his left and right, suddenly in a much clearer voice then before he called out down the line, "are you ready?"

The one wizard within the room who appeared to be under fifty whipped his head up with the air of an over-excited puppy, his horn-rimmed glasses flashed in the light and his brilliant red-hair clashed terribly with the plum of his very official-looking robes. With a respectful smile he nodded and replied with an eager, "yes, sir!"

His feather quill poised carefully over a piece of parchment he waited eagerly for Fudge to begin.

"Trial hearing: Wizengamot versus Yuugi Mutou of the third of August into offenses concerning the misuse and unregistered use of dangerous magics, illegal possession of a dangerous magical artifact and numerous cases of intentional harm to the others through use of said magics committed by Yuugi Mutou, resident of Kame Game Shop, Domino City, Japan."

The only sound made save for Fudge's voice was the exuberant scratching of a quill across parchment. Yuugi wrinkled his nose, grimaced and watched the scribe with a faint amount of interest in an attempt to keep his mind from the need to scratch his nose. He was half-way through noticing that the red-haired boy (who was so _faithfully_ recording every word that Fudge was saying) hadn't fastened his robes properly when his other half chided sharply, '_you really should be listening to what they are saying Aibou – this **is** your trial_.'

With a sigh that quite plainly said that he knew that Atemu was right but wasn't about to admit it Yuugi refocused his attention and tuned in to what Fudge was saying.

"He is to be investigated by the following interrogators: Cornelius Oswald Fudge; Minister for Magic, Amelia Susan Bones; Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore; Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot. Court Scribe: Percy Ignatius Weasley."

With a resigned look down the row Fudge waited for Percy's quill to stop scratching before he began to speak again in the same clear tone.

"The charges against the accused are as follows..."

As Fudge shuffled his papers and began to read out just what it was that he was supposed to have done wrong Yuugi felt his stomach began to methodically knot itself into tiny sections over and over again. The chains felt awkwardly heavy around his wrists and he was beginning to regret his usual leather attire.

He was receiving some rather disturbing looks from disapproving witches in the back-row – and some rather _approving _looks from a pair of witches in the middle of the stand.

Yuugi wasn't particularly sure which he preferred.

With a mental cringe he found the spirit of the Puzzle offering little comfort – though not for lack of trying.

'_Don't worry Aibou,_' Atemu tried with reaffirming nod of his head, '_we haven't done anything wrong. They cannot convict us – **they **are the ones who are wrong._'

Yuugi fought the urge to smack himself in the head only due to the rather sturdy chains that held his hands in place and sighed aloud. '_I wish it was that simple,_' he replied with a grimace and turned his eyes back towards where Fudge had fixed a stern stare upon him.

"You are Yuugi Mutou of Kame Game Shop, Domino City, Japan?" he declared aloud with a marginal furrowing of his brow.

Yuugi frowned slightly in response and cautiously replied, "yes."

Fudge's eyes lit up fractionally and he leaned further forward in his chair to leer down at Yuugi with the beginnings of a smile curling his lips, "you are the _same _Yuugi Mutou who was seen to be responsible for the damage and removal of three separate souls belonging to employees of the Ministry of Magic?"

Yuugi chewed his lip and didn't hesitate to add a disgruntled glare up at the Minister. He knew _precisely _what color Fudge was painting him and it definitely wasn't complimentary. (**4**)

"Answer the question Mister Mutou. Are you or are you _not_ the individual _responsible_ for the crimes that I have listed?"

The itch in Yuugi's nose was quickly becoming unbearable.

"Right. Very well then Mister Mutou – if you _refuse _to co-operate then we will have to take measures to receive the _truth -_"

Fudge jumped as a loud bang interrupted his sentence and whipped his head around towards the door. The back of his neck was turning a lovely shade of maroon with indignation and embarrassment which he quickly used as the fuel for a marvelously venomous glare in the direction of the person who had caused the interruption.

Fudge's glare, however, completely unimpressed it's intended target – after all, Malik Ishtar had been spending a lot of time with Seto Kaiba over the past two weeks.

With a borrowed flavor of the confidence and arrogance that so fluidly _leaked _from the being that was Seto Kaiba, Malik Ishtar swaggered inside the courtroom which so resembled a medieval dungeon – minus the instruments of torture of course. He cast an airy look about himself with a haughty stare (also, very much so _borrowed _from one Seto Kaiba) and raised an eyebrow with a sense of apathy.

A suave gesture of fingers gliding through a bound shock of blond that contrasted so heavily with his deeply tanned skin he flashed a wide smile up at the gathered jurors, "sorry I'm late."

Casually he strolled towards where Yuugi watched him with obscenely large and protruding amethyst eyes and a hanging jaw, swinging the trademark brilliant silver briefcase in his hands, noticeably marked with an entwined, 'KC'. With a brief professional nod at Yuugi and a severe amount of restraint to keep from snickering at his position he glanced up at the Jurors and adjusted the Windsor at his throat.

Dragging himself out of the odd daze that had passed over him Fudge barked out angrily with his face turning the same shade of maroon as his neck, "- and who_ are_ you exactly that you should interrupt a trial of the Wizengamot?"

Malik lazily adjusted the pair of glasses that rested upon his nose and smiled broadly up at his designated target, a slight shadow seemed to crawl over his face as his lips curled into a much more familiar sinister expression.

"Malik Ishtar," he responded with a smooth drawl that made half of the room's spines crawl.

"Attorney for the Defense." (**5**)

--

"Keep it _down_ Priest – I swear – you would have made the _worst _thief to ever walk in Kemet."

Set narrowed his eyes at Bakura's back and carefully followed with a pronounced sneer and crude hand signal. With a haughty sniff he replied sharply, "if you were trying to _insult _me Tomb Robber that was the most pathetic attempt I've heard all day."

Bakura sent a smug smirk over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, "now now Priest, you're possibly the worst _liar _I've ever met as well."

Set's eyebrows contracted furiously and he twirled the slick metal of the rod between his fingers rhythmically before replying stiffly, "they're hardly _admirable _qualities to excel at Tomb Robber."

The Tomb Robber sent another amused look over his shoulder and scooted further down the hall with a mocking smirk in place, " - and _you_'re hardly an admirable person Priest, even _I _wasn't expecting the stunt you tried to pull."

A warning glare fixed itself in Set's eyes and a faint growling sound escaped his lips as he strode purposefully faster to catch up the King of Thieves. Bakura, however, always seemed to be just one step out of his reach.

"Just how did you manage to keep it from Kaiba for so long anyway?" the Thief drawled at him with a flash of crimson eyes in his direction.

"I don't want to hear it Tomb Robber," Set hissed back with a smoldering glare burning up the Thief's back, "if you know what's good for you then you'll -"

He came to an abrupt pause as Bakura waved a hand in urgent dismissal and shot a warning glare over his shoulder. Set also quickly realized that the Tomb Robber had stopped walking – only one step too late of course. With a barely audible hiss the homicidal spirit of the Ring shot a seething stare over his shoulder and jerked his head towards the adjoining corridor where just audible voices could be heard.

Set frowned slightly and listened carefully to try and decipher what they were saying, "- I've warned you before about this Dawlish. Only Unspeakable's are allowed down here. This information is _classified, _do you understand me? Do you _know _what would happen if anyone got their hands on some of the stuff down here? It was a near crisis with Voldemort in here – do you realize what would have happened if he'd discovered any of the _real _secrets in here?" (**6**)

A vague mumble responded to the distinctly angered tone that the other was whispering in, Bakura raised an eyebrow slightly and glanced over his shoulder with a steadily growing smirk that made Set involuntarily shudder. Something in that look reminded him _far_ too much of the Thief King Bakura in his previous life – the one that had wielded the all-powerful _Diabound_.

If Bakura managed to obtain that kind of strength again in this life Set didn't care to think what would happen.

The voices became steadily quieter and Set realized that whoever it was that had been speaking must have moved on, he found that the Tomb Robber was still watching him with a curiously pleased smirk in place.

"Well then Priest – let's see what these Wizards are hiding."

Set frowned slightly as the faintest flicker that something wasn't quite right overcame him, with a slight narrowing of his eyes he turned his head to glance over his shoulder. With only the empty darkness behind him it was suddenly quite apparent what was missing from the picture.

"Where's Potter?" (**7**)

--

The first chance he got, Yuugi took it. Leaning as inconspicuously over towards the blond Egyptian he hissed out in a slightly shriller tone then he had intended, "_Malik? _How did you know – What are you _doing?_"

Malik watched with a faint amount of amusement as the wide-eyed Yuugi abruptly departed and in his place came the regal aloofness that was characteristic of the former-Pharaoh. As expected garnet eyes hit their mark with their usual bite, "why are you here Ishtar?"

At this a slightly offended frown fixed upon the Egyptian's face and he raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, "I'm _here _to save your ass Pharaoh – I suggest _you _keep quiet and let _me _do all the talking."

With that the Tomb Keeper whirled around to face the jurors with a mocking smile and tilted his head ever so slightly, his eyes sticking briefly upon the face of Albus Dumbledore as they drifted over the faces of the jurors before settling on that of Cornelius Fudge.

"Well then, now that we've – _all _arrived let us begin," the wizard began with a slightly flustered air as Malik's unnaturally _lavender _gaze refused to budge from his face.

"Yes," Malik replied with a good dousing of enthusiasm, "let's."

With a steadily growing frown Fudge looked ready to inquire as to whether he could have the Egyptian kicked out of the courtroom before shaking his head and frowning. With a resigned sigh he took up his former booming tone and declared loudly,"now then Mister Mutou -"

"Excuse me?" Malik interrupted with a cheerful wave of his hand and ignoring the garnet stare that bore into his back.

When Fudge cleared his throat and looked set to fully ignore him Malik narrowed his eyes, after all – he hadn't gone through all the drama of being forced into the suit for _nothing. _With a bold glare he coughed loudly and all but yelled, "_excuse me!_"

Fudge cringed visibly and turned a scathing glare upon the Egyptian with narrowed eyes, "yes, what is it that you _want _Mister Ishtar?"

A wan smile crossed Malik's lips as he raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, "I was wondering if I might have a glass of water – and a desk to set my briefcase on. Your working conditions are _appalling._"

A vein began to throb ominously in the side of Fudge's neck as his eyes blazed down upon the immaculately dressed Egyptian. Without taking his eyes off of the blond he barked out abruptly, "_Weasley! _Fetch _Mister _Ishtar some water and a desk."

A soft chuckle escaped somewhere to Fudge's left and a humor-filled voice intervened smoothly, "now now Cornelius – no need to make the boy get up."

Malik glanced up towards the jurors stand with amusement, he watched with a lazy lavender stare as the old man waved his wand with an almost bored air and a battered old desk fell with a thud to the ground in front of the Egyptian. A jug of water and a glass hurriedly followed, coming to a rest with a clink upon the table with a soft slop of water.

"Yes – thank you _Albus,_" Fudge muttered irritably.

Malik obligingly swung the all-to-familiar silver briefcase up onto the desktop and clicked it open with a subtle glance in Atemu's direction. From the faint recognition in the Pharaoh's eyes it was quite obvious that he had made the connection between the briefcase and it's_ real_ owner.

Languidly Malik filled the glass with water and took a sip, finally he set it down and waved a hand cheerfully. "_Do_ continue.."

Fudge glared at him with what was quickly becoming loathing and turned narrowed eyes back towards where Atemu wore a faintly amused smirk and was looking a great deal less nervous then earlier.

With a slight twitch of his eyebrow he snarled, "_yes_, well. Mister Mutou, are you or are you not the_ same_ Yuugi Mutou that is responsible for the harming and mutilation of souls belonging to workers of this Ministry?"

Malik choked on his water and raised a hand wildly to pound it on the desk with a resounding, "_objection_!"

Fudge rose a hand to his forehead and let out a long-suffering groan before rounding on Malik with a spiteful glare, "just _what _is it that you are objecting to Mister Ishtar?"

Malik raised an eyebrow slightly, thinking back to the hours of daytime television he had watched after his return to Cairo from Battle City and smiled absently, "you're purposely tainting the jury! On behalf of Mister Mutou I demand an apology."

Malik found it increasingly difficult not to smirk at the fury that contorted Fudge's face, "just _how _am I tainting the _jury _Mister Ishtar?"

Taking a breath Malik glanced towards the Pharaoh and fought not to snicker as he turned back to face the group of wizards. "I should think that was obvious _sir, _implying my _client_ has anything to do with, _what was it, _'the harming and mutilation of souls' is nothing but an attempt to bias the jury!"

Fudge's face had turned an interesting shade of violet as Malik spoke and the vein in his neck was bulging so ominously Malik thought it might explode. With a snarl that was nothing short of bestial rage Fudge rose from his seat and bellowed, "there were no _implications _Mister Ishtar, we _know _your 'client' was responsible for the harming of those souls and the resulting damage to their owners!"

Malik blinked, the picture of innocent surprise, before snorting loudly and rolling his eyes.

"Then why did you bother _asking?_"

Several of the witches in the back row tittered as Fudge's fingers began to flex unconsciously as though itching to be placed within throttling range of the would-be-lawyer.

A quick glance over his shoulder saw that Atemu was doing a very good job of keeping a straight face. With a faint smirk Malik raised an eyebrow slightly and announced coolly, "in light of this new development I should like to seek counsel with my client."

With that he turned on his heel and approached the Pharaoh with a very obvious smirk imprinted on his lips and hunched over to whisper, "have to give you credit Pharaoh – at least you made it to London before they caught you."

Atemu frowned back at him and hissed back, "where's Kaiba? What are you planning?"

Malik gave a wide sarcastic smile and tapped the Pharaoh on the nose with an infuriating wave of his fingers, "that's for later Pharaoh – you'll have to wait until we get you out of that chair and out of hearing range of that hoard of wizards."

Turning back to the court and ignoring the protesting growl that escaped Atemu's lips Malik smiled and graciously declared, "you may resume your questioning."

Fudge looked as if he had swallowed a lemon as he bit out, "_thank you_" and glanced down the line of Wizards to where Dumbledore was merrily sucking on a sherbet lemon and looking as if he was having the time of his life.

With a deep breath of composure the Minister of Magic managed to calm himself before he tried again, "_alright_ then Mister Mutou, tell me, where were you on the ninth of July?"

Malik jumped up to sit on his desktop and gave a sunny smile up at the jury, ignoring the faint snickering that came from Atemu's lips he asked cheerfully, "tell me, _Cornelius _was it? Where were _you _on the ninth of July?"

Fudge slowly turned towards Malik with a withering stare, his eyebrow had begun to twitch in a disorderly fashion and he ground out, "that is completely irrelevant!"

Malik beamed and called out loudly, "let it be known that the question is _completely irrelevant_ on the records!"

The witches at the back of the room tittered again and Fudge's face burnt a brilliant flaring crimson. His nostrils flared and he finally growled out warningly, "Mister Ishtar if you continue to interrupt me in my questioning I will have you removed from this court!"

Malik raised an eyebrow eloquently and lent back on the desk with a faint smirk in place, his eyes gleamed eerily as he rose a hand to remove the glasses that had been deftly added to his person and suddenly he seemed a lot more like the Malik that Atemu remembered.

"Mister Mutou has a_ right_ to an attorney,_ Cornelius._ It just so happens that_ I'm_ that attorney, whatever_ personal_ issues you might have with me are completely irrelevant."

Fudge's eyes glittered with spatters of venom as he rose from his seat to lean forwards over the barrier and hissed down at him, "_personal issues_ Mister Ishtar? I've never_ met_ you before in my life!"

Malik fluttered his eyelashes prettily and folded his glasses to press them into his jacket pocket, "I'm hurt Cornelius, very_ hurt._"

A muffled chuckling could be heard from the direction of one Albus Dumbledore.

Within seconds the crocodile tears that had been shimmering in Malik's eyes disappeared and once again the poker face returned, "it seems to me _Mister Fudge, _that you have no case whatsoever against my client."

Fudge narrowed both eyes viciously, "you're smooth talking will _not _win you this case Mister Ishtar, if you interrupt my line of questioning again I _will _have you removed from this courtroom."

Malik raised an eyebrow casually, "whatever you say _Cornelius, _whatever you say." (**8**)

--

**Footnotes:**

1. Yup – you know the one I'm talking about. The one he was wearing in Battle City before they realized who he was.

2. I suddenly realized I've been skimping on my bad-ass Bakura of late.

3. The actual _god _Set, who our lovely Priest was named for, supposedly had power over Wind and Storms as well as being the God of destruction and disorder and at some point the God of War.

4. Black incidentally.

5. Bam! Right there. That's the line that's been stuck in my head ever since I considered exploring this option.

6. Yeah – _like _they aren't gonna go exploring.

7. Once again – a hint alert. If anyone can tell me where they _think _Harry has buggered off to I'll be much amused. Though I have a feeling it's really not all that mysterious x.x

8. And _that _my friends is why I would hire Malik to be my lawyer.

**AN**: Big fat apologies for how long this took to get out! Hopefully the added length will be sufficient apology, along with a _nice_ high cliffhanger for you. This chapter simply would not be written I tell you.. It was taunting me. But, I was struck with inspiration and here we are. Hopefully you can all see Malik as making a good lawyer now – or rather, an extremely irritating and infuriating lawyer.. And "gasp" – _Harry's _missing, whatever has become of our boy-hero... You'll have to wait 'till next time I'm afraid. Anyway, onto what's_ really_ important.. The thing that you all wade your way through all of_ that_ bullshit up there to get to..

**Kurosaisei: **You know, it really is okay to read it the day _after _you found a new chapter at a reasonable hour. Wouldn't want to be responsible for the fatigue of a faithful reviewer and all – especially a _psychic _one at that.

**Millenium Priestess:** The Pharaoh has arrived! And_ yes_ Bob the Builder. I've been insane for a very, very long time, plus! If you think_ i'm_ insane then the British must be bonkers.. The Bob the Builder song reached number one on their music charts for a series of weeks.. And no, I'm_ not_ talking about the children's charts. Crazy huh?

**AnzuMasakiChan:** Thanks heaps! They_ did_ kiss, and now Malik's going to give them shit about it as well. I think it's a little late for the Exams – hey I should at least pass English. Maths however is a completely different story.

**LovingKitten:** You know what? I'm going to be_ extremely_ nice to you and let the cat out of the bag, yes, this_ will_ be Y/YY. Hopefully the Pharaoh and Yuugi's entrance_ didn't_ disappoint.

**Skycat:** Owch.. Maybe they should install elevators on those plans ne? At least the fall wouldn't hurt so bad.. Another cliffy just built a new wall.. Sincere apologies, shall send a fruit-basket to your rehabilitation facility.

**Lucidscreamer:** Aah, one of the_ lovely_ errors that escaped my attention due to a severe case of "exam-itis." Life wouldn't be the same without it..

**Rima:** Good to know that you appreciate the Bob the Builder humor.. Seto/Set fluff won't be particularly common.. They put a whole new twist on Romance.. I mean c'mon! It's _Kaiba. _

**Eden's Echo: **So you picked up on Harry's sudden 'do-gooder' attitude then. Very interesting isn't it.. Just so _happens _that our dear Golden Boy has an agenda of his own.. And you should know by now I can't answer what happens if Set doesn't do the ritual! Lol.. Just keep on trying to get it outta me.. I won't budge an inch.

**Nachzes-Black Rider: **Well, Molly _will _be Molly. She's the smothering Motherly type, of course she's going to try and stuff Ryou until he looks like a bloated cow. The boy needs some meat on his bones. Ooh and I liked the prologue for your fic.. I _think _I reviewed, can't remember.

**Viva-rose:** You know.. You really aren't that far off.

**Chelley Angel: **Oh yes.. Malik is _such _a little dear...

**lilmatchgirl007: **Yes, I enjoyed writing the Mrs Weasley/Bakura confrontation _very _much. Malik – well, he doesn't know that the Wizards won't understand the significance, but it gives him an air of impressiveness doesn't it.. Well Harry didn't want Hermione and Ron tagging along for _this _ride, which I'm sure you'll figure out soon enough why. But he has his _own _agenda – besides, if Fudge and Co. knew he was chummy chummy with Ministry fugitives they'd have something to pin on him and probably get him expelled from Hogwarts for good. More Harry next chapter.

**Queen of the Paperclips: **Yeahp a Set/Seto bonanza.. Gotta love the word 'bonanza' don't ya?

**Crystalstorm21: **Poor poor Malik.. Ahh well he's enjoying himself now.

**Lizeth: **Aah, the Bob the Builder scenario.. It refused to leave my head until I'd written it and of _course _it had to be Mokuba who introduced it. Plus it's fun giving him a little bit of the spoiled brat syndrome.. Hopefully you can _believe _in the power of the Defense Attorney Malik Ishtar now.. or at least see him in the suit? Oh that errors going to haunt me for the rest of my days.. I just _know _it. -cringes-

**Destiny's Dragon: **Well.. The plan is a-rolling, but I don't see them sticking to it very well..

**Artemis: **Thanks, as for the information on Ancient Egypt, I actually spent a _lot _of time doing the research for it. If you head down to your local library they will usually have at least a few books on the subject, most of the Ancient Egyptian language I've used comes from the traces still used in Arabic and the Kemetic religion today. A useful site on the language is The House of Netjer which can be found at http :www. kemet. org/ home.ht ml (taking out the spaces) a basic summary on the Egyptian gods can be found at, 110 Egyptian Gods; htt p: ww w.ne mo.nu/ibispo rtal/0egyptintro/1e gypt/ (spaces removed once again) but once again, the most useful sources on basic daily life can be found through books from your library. Hopefully that was helpful.

**Kazame: **Oh come on! Have some faith in Malik – the Tomb Keeper has _some _tricks up his sleeve. Argh, that typo is going to plague my dreams.. I can just _see _it now..

**QueenofGames2: **Well, I will admit that it was extremely stupid of the Pharaoh to get _caught _after coming all that way but still.. Gives us a chance for Malik to prove his worth doesn't it. Poor Mokuba had to stay behind however – oh well, there has to be _someone _to mess with the other wizards minds..

**Sadistic Introvert: **Set hath spoken, disorder and destruction.. Yeahp, the Ministry are _definitely _in for some trouble.

**Ciardra: **It seems my Bob the Builder scene is becoming quite popular, _Mokuba _is going to be hell on wheels when he matures into that sexy Kaiba stage and you _could _say that a little '_tzujing_' went down.. And _yes _I did have to look up how to spell that.. It's _amazing _what you can find on the internet..

**Amant de Mort: **Well it's good to hear that this has remained different, I'm looking forward to introducing little Yuugi to the lovely Mrs Weasley.. It should be _entertaining _at least and as for Snape – well he has _bigger _problems to deal with. Though _that_ shouldn't have been mentioned for a while yet. Hope you continue to enjoy the story.

**Curtis Zidane Ziraa: **Mmmhmm, made it on to another favorite stories list. Che' Bro.

**PyroKittyKat: **Well, Pharaoh won't be getting a free ride.. I mean, all his adversaries bailed up in _one _house and him being locked in with them. Yeahp, this _will _be interesting..

**Sanjuno Shori: **Yeahp, I crack me up too. Good to hear that this is believable, I _do _try.

**Lily of the Shadow: **Simply because there were so _many _pretty's attached to that – an update.

**Arrhythmic Song: **Ooh another one whose putting in the effort, you deserve a virtual candy-cane for _that _effort. The Kaiba brothers won't leave me alone, tis an ailment of the most _serious _kind. Plus the Priest gets a raw deal – I've seen far too many portrayals of the guy as either a psychopath or a sugary-sweet piece of man-candy. -twitches- Not to say he isn't a bit psychotic.. Mmm, leather, _Pharaoh _in leather. So many possibilities.. So little time and still an Otogi to save.

'_Shot through the heart – and you're to blame. Darlin' you give love a bad name._'


	16. Hitting the Jackpot

* * *

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Fifteen-  
**Hitting the Jackpot

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

Seto Kaiba was beginning to think that _destiny _had some wild and unwarranted grudge against him.

Set was fairly _sure _that destiny had a wild (and quite possibly justified) grudge against _him_.

Between the pair they were a literal lightning rod for misfortunes and astoundingly bad luck – and from what Seto could _gather_ he could quite rightfully blame all of the terrible misfortunes of his life on bad karma courtesy of Set.

Or at least – he could if he _believed _in that sort of thing.

As it was Seto was more often-than-not grudgingly forced into the role of, '_Pro-Efficient Man,_' (capable of taking any unflattering situation and using it to **A**) _his own advantage_ or **B**) _the misfortune of the one responsible for said situation_) because of some _idiot_ with a tangent to involve him in _their _life, far too often for his liking. (**1**)

Contrary to popular belief Seto Kaiba did not _like _to fix other peoples problems. Seto much rather preferred to watch them struggle from afar and have a good smirk about it later.

Alas, that was _not _to be the case when concerning Harry Potter.

Seto could already feel the '_Pro-Efficient Headache_' (that often accompanied his transition into '_Pro-Efficient Man_') approaching at a rapid rate and the mere realization of it made his lips twist into a distinctly sour expression.

He had always hated it when people started trying to involve him in their lives. _Incidentally_ it was one of the main complaints he had against Yuugi Mutou and teetered on the top of the '_Why I'll Never Be Friends/Remotely Friendly With Yuugi Mutou_' list that he was considering publishing as a novel when the income from Magic and Wizards started to dwindle. (**2**)

The faintest of smirks threatened to take away the sourness from his lips and he hurriedly cast the thought aside.

"I assume we are searching for the wizard then omote?"

The distinctly bored drawl that the words were spoken with were successful in drawing a razor edge into Seto's glare as he turned it onto the Spirit of the Rod.

"_Yes_, we are searching for Potter. Unless _you _care to spend the rest of your .._existence_ in the nearest jail cell courtesy of that Weasley woman."

Set's lips twitched into a far-too smug expression for Seto to like. He sauntered lazily towards Seto to stand in front of him, the infuriating smirk seemed to grow wider as he leaned forwards, perched high on his tip-toes so he was at eye-level and raised one eyebrow precariously high on his brow. He prodded Seto lazily in the chest for emphasis as he began to speak,"I believe that you _care _what they think of you omote."

The expression that greeted Seto's eyes was nothing short of disgust mingled with a good dash of horror. The words that left his mouth were almost snarled out, "I do _not_ care what _they _think of me."

Seto was fairly sure that the Priest's eyes were laughing at him.

This suspicion was quickly confirmed when Set's voice-box caught up with his eyes and he began to snicker in a particularly maddening way.

Seto remained unamused – at least until a decidedly agitated voice interrupted Set's laughter with a mocking sneer of, "as _much _as I don't want to interrupt this – _moment _you're having Priest.."

Set all but jumped with surprise and whipped his head around to shoot a violent glowering stare in the direction of a bored Tomb Robber who had plucked a familiar looking dagger from a pocket and was twirling it skillfully between his fingers. (**3**)

Upon realizing he had Set's attention Bakura stood up straight and a sneer greeted his lips, "_I _believe we have a mission to complete. Preferably before Ishtar ruins everything and lands himself and the Pharaoh the death penalty... Come to think of it, take all the time you need."

A withering dark glare made a sharp and violent detour to rest on the Spirit of the Ring.

"Come on omote – we're finding the wizard and then going to make sure that Ishtar hasn't followed his instincts and had the Pharaoh carted off to the nearest prison already."

Seto's lip curled in disdain and he cast an irritable look around himself, he really did hate it when he got involved in other peoples problems. Right now observing from a distance and conjuring one of his infamous smirks was looking _mighty _inviting.

It truly was ironic that he refused to believe in the existence of destiny – for destiny _certainly _had it in for him.

--

The corridors were quiet now.

Or at least, they had grown quieter as he had gotten further away from the bickering voices of the pair he had been landed with. Not that Harry missed the noise, quite the contrary actually, he welcomed the loss of the noise as it meant there would be no one to stand in his way.

That was what Harry had been counting on.

He _did_ feel bad about lying to Ron and Hermione – he hadn't told them about his plan but he had assured himself it was necessary. He simply _couldn't _leave things as they were. Harry Potter didn't just go around giving up on those he cared about and he had always felt that niggle, that strange whispering in the back of his mind that told him that Sirius _wasn't _dead.

The niggle had quickly grown, stuck deep within his mind that there was something he should have done – something that he _could _do.

Not that he had voiced such thoughts.

An absent shiver crawled through his arms and he dragged the silken material of the Invisibility Cloak impulsively closer to his body. The memories that adorned these gloomy corridors weren't pleasant ones, filled with black shadows and _her _laughter. Even now Harry could feel the fear and the loathing, fingers of ice choking and constricting.

All that remained here was death.

It was nearing two months since he had last been here – last traversed the maze of doors and corridors that was the Department of Mysteries and yet everything seemed exactly the same. With an audible sigh he cast a careful look around himself before slipping out of the door nearest to himself and stumbling into the next room.

--

Malik Ishtar was beginning to think he might have gotten in a little bit over his depth.

Cornelius Fudge had called for a short halt in the proceedings around ten minutes ago, in the matter of time since one of the Wizards had bolted out of the room with a frightening look of _realization _on his face. This may well have been a trivial detail for someone who _wasn't _Malik Ishtar, but the fact was that with _his _kind of record Malik couldn't afford to have sudden '_realizations' _popping up left right and center.

Needless to say, Malik was beginning to get slightly anxious. Strike that, he was ready to run for the door and forget all thoughts of saving the Pharaoh.

That was until a slightly irritable deep voice muttered at him, "what's going on Ishtar? What are you planning and what has it got to do with Kaiba?"

Turning lavender eyes in Atemu's direction Malik released a sigh and with it the shadow that had begun to clamber across his mind hastily drew backwards. He strolled closer and crouched down beside the chair so he could talk quietly and cast a quick look over the distracted witches and wizards who were busy discussing amongst themselves.

A slightly twisted smile crossed the Egyptians lips and he snickered appreciatively to himself before replying smoothly, "me and Kaiba are eloping to Sweden – I just came by to let you know and wish you luck on your new life as an in-mate."

Atemu's crimson eyes visibly widened for several seconds before he recognized the sarcasm laced within the Egyptians words and snorted to himself, "how about once more with feeling Ishtar?"

"Alright Pharaoh – listen carefully because I'm _not _going to repeat myself. The purpose of me being here is to create a diversion, Kaiba and the Tomb Robber are somewhere inside the Ministry trying to find some dirty secret or revelation as to _why _these Wizards are suddenly so interested in us. Hopefully I can keep this lot busy long enough for them to find something in which case _we _break you out of here and head back to the safe-house. Got it?"

At the silence that greeted this Malik frowned and turned his head to express his displeasure in a more direct way, what his eyes were greeted by was a perplexed crimson stare and slightly raised eyebrow that quickly transformed into a furrowing of his brow.

" - The Tomb Robber is here?"

Malik's lips quirked into an obscure smile that made Atemu begin to feel rather uneasy.

"Yes. Bakura is here – looking for anything thats potentially destructive and powerful."

An odd twinge curled in the base of Atemu's spine and he felt the strangest urge to be in a secluded dark corner. A sudden revelation however drew his thoughts from this and a nasty smattering of what appeared to be annoyance flooded his pupils, "Kaiba is here.. and he let _you _try to talk the Wizards out of convicting me?"

Malik's expression seemed suddenly caught between the gleeful need to prove just how little Kaiba actually _liked _the Pharaoh and indignation at the connotations that surrounded the '_you_' he had used.

"Yes it was _his _idea that I should be here," Malik began with a huffy narrowing of eyes.

Somewhere within his soul room Yuugi got the feeling that Atemu's less than subtle way of expressing himself was becoming insulting and decided to take measures to amend.

Needless to say Atemu was (_less-than_) mildly surprised to find himself flung unceremoniously out of control and Malik was surprised to find obscenely large amethyst eyes focused on him.

"I assume we're taking a break?" Yuugi asked cheerfully with a glance around at the milling Witches and Wizards who were sipping from fine china cups that someone or the other had conjured along the line.

Malik raised an eyebrow ever so slightly and leaned somewhat closer with a frown, "no – _they _are taking a break. _We _are discussing how terribly stupid it was of Kaiba to put – dare I say it – _me _in the position of defending you while he goes gallivanting around the place with the Tomb Robber." (**4**)

An interest appeared to have sparked in Yuugi's amethyst eyes and he offered a tight-lipped smile that was positively _rank _with diplomacy, "well Kaiba _is _the businessman of the year. I can see why he might be a somewhat _better _candidate."

Malik let out a loud and disbelieving snort.

Yuugi gave a somewhat nervous laugh and amended with a good gust of enthusiasm, "_but _on the other hand I don't think that they were going to let us off anyway so we may as well have as much fun at their expense as possible."

A smirk replaced the scowl on Malik's face and his eyes seemed to shimmer with faint amusement, "you know Mutou – I don't think I've given you enough credit. You're a great deal less dull then I imagined."

Yuugi gave a nervous laugh and tried to hide the traces of confusion that threatened to cloud his eyes. He couldn't quite figure out if that had been a compliment or an insult.

"Thanks.. I think."

It was at that moment that the door to courtroom opened and slammed shut and the man that Malik had noticed running _away _from the court was now running back _into _the court. The triumphant gleam in his eyes made Malik feel slightly queasy.

"Minister! I found what you wanted.."

--

It was exactly as he remembered it.

Even now, quiet and desolate, he could see it as it had been that night that was both so very long ago and yet so fresh in his mind.

The stone steps beneath him were damp with the cool morning air, damp enough for him to feel the cold through the worn material of his jeans. From his perch on the bottom-most step he had a perfect view of the crumbling focus-point of the cavernous room, a perfect view to see what had haunted his dreams ever since that night.

In his mind the room was a merry-go-round of brilliant flashing colors and sparks. Filled with the blurred screams and sighs and wails and yells that seemed to echo to and fro through his memory. In his _mind _it _was _that night.

Nonetheless, Harry knew that it wasn't the same.

Even as the swashbuckling mirage of his godfather swept past in a whirl of fine cloaks, wand flashing like a silver sword, Harry _knew _what was to come.

For Harry could already see, even as his godfather re-enacted the warped dance that his mind simulated, he could _see _that face still filled with laughter. He could see the surprised widening of his eyes, he could see his mouth drop open in breathless confusion.

'_Come on, you can do better than that!_'

The jeering taunt fluttered eloquently from Sirius' lips and Harry watched with desolate eyes as his godfather ducked the first flash of red. A strange jeering final bow before the curtain dropped. Everything seemed to melt and blur together as Sirius fell, lasting forever and yet for only a shattered moment before Harry heard his _own _screaming break through the silence.

It was strange, Harry had decided, strange that he could hear himself screaming and yet his mouth was clenched shut.

"I think I'm going mad," he affirmed aloud as the flashing lights and sounds dissolved into shadow and dust.

The tattered black veil fluttered absently on a unseen wind as though to agree with him.

"Unsurprising really," came a cold sneer from above him.

So unexpected was the voice that Harry jumped visibly and toppled the half-meter to the floor of the pit with a jarring landing on his hands and knees. His hand stretched automatically for the silk of his invisibility cloak which lay only centimeters away on the grimy stone floor.

Harry wheeled around to stare with narrowed green eyes up at the intruder and was startled by the sight that greeted him.

With a visible sneer in his direction the Tomb Robber languidly dropped into a sitting position in Harry's former position and smirked down at him. Needless to say, Harry was beginning to feel somewhat uneasy.

"_What's_ unsurprising?"

Bakura gave a wide unsettling smile that somehow managed to showcase his collection of decidedly_ pointy_ teeth and drawled back, "that you_ think_ you're going mad – everyone else already knew it. It's about time you caught up."

Harry glowered in Bakura's direction and was greeted with the sight of a translucent hand deftly smacking the thief in the side of the head. The wizard's lips twitched as the King of Thieves whipped his head around to glare menacingly at his dopple-ganger and bared his teeth in much the same manner as an angered dog.

"Do you _wish _to spend the next side of _eternity _in the shadows Yadunoshi?"

Harry blinked fuzzily at the transparent form of the privately smiling Ryou who offered a soft-spoken, "I thought I told you to play nice with the other children?"

An ominous shadow closed in on the King of Thieves as he muttered rapidly beneath his breath before gifting his other half with an almost _tolerant _frown.

"I _knew _Ishtar would be a bad influence on you Yadunoshi," he muttered darkly, "you used to be so.. _subservient_."

Ryou gave a rather unbecoming snort that sounded as though it originated from somewhere between amusement and intense psychological trauma.

Harry wasn't quite willing to ask which, so instead he settled on the other question that was on his mind, "how did you find me?"

To his surprised the King of Thieves turned lazily on his heel and a sly fox's smile drew thick across his lips, a hand brushed languidly at the center of his chest where Harry could see the faint outline of something beneath. When he spoke it was an amused drawl that was slightly unnerving, "I have my ways."

Quickly glancing around the room Harry felt a brief frown tug at his lips and he quickly voiced the nagging thought that lingered in his mind.

"Where's Kaiba?"

"We split up," came the soft murmur from the shimmer of translucent form that lingered near the bodily form of the King of Thieves.

A dry smile crossed the softer apparitions lips and he eyed the embodied form of his other half with a slight hint of skepticism, "which I imagine was mostly due to the fact that Bakura was hoping he would get lost and we could leave without him."

The Tomb Robber cast a sharp glare in Ryou's direction which was probably meant as some form of warning and leapt deftly down from his seat to the pit of the room, his eyes fixed intently upon the stone dais in its center.

Impulsively Harry moved towards it with a faint frown, his fingers twisting the invisibility cloak absently. The Tomb Robbers lips quirked in an eerily sinister manner as he noted the abrupt movement and he eyed instead the cloak that was being wrung between the boys hands.

"Very _interesting _cloak you have there. I assume that was what you used to get away from us?"

Harry narrowed his eyes at the notably _dangerous _creature that was lazily sidling around him, his eyes once again fixed on the stone archway with morbid curiosity.

It was strange, Harry had decided. This _Bakura _as they called him was both alike Voldemort and yet so unlike him it was almost infuriating, he could feel the same cool detachment – he could _see _the same blood-shed milling in those scarlet eyes and yet he was so very _different. _

Voldemort was the kind of villain that you would expect, he was cruel and cold and filled with malice and prejudice beyond the comprehension of any normal human being. But Bakura was for lack of a better word, _different. _

He was the kind of evil that you found in the shadows on the wall that you feared as a child – he was the sinister shapes in the shadows that made shivers roll through your spine when you were walking alone at night. He was the kind of evil that _existed _yet was so buried in myth and fictional stories that you didn't know what to make of it.

But most of all he was ancient and beyond the realms of a _villain. _

Harry didn't know whether he should fear him less or more of if he should even fear him at all.

It took him only a moment to realize that Bakura had sidled past him and was now standing on the stone dais, inspecting the very worn and crumbling archway that stood in the center. Harry shuddered involuntarily as the veil fluttered and let out a startled yell of, "be careful – that veil."

The Tomb Robber turned calmly and observed him with blatantly bored eyes before turning back and tracing a finger cautiously along once edge of the crumbling archway with the beginnings of a half-smile twitching his lips.

"You've seen it's power – haven't you?" he mused aloud in a delightfully mocking voice.

Harry felt a shiver roll through his muscles and found himself mesmerized by the fluttering of the tattered black veil, he could hear the softest of whispers beginning to call out to him and took a step backwards with an awkward frown.

"I – _yes. _It took him.. He's dead."

Harry nearly jumped as a translucent hand found its way onto his shoulders and found he was grateful for it. He gave a quick glance in Ryou's direction and found the boy was instead watching his other half, Harry turned his eyes towards the Tomb Robber abruptly and found that Bakura was regarding him with a curious expression.

"Dead?" he mused aloud with a slightly raised eyebrow as he glanced back towards the archway before he began to laugh.

"You don't know what this _is – _do you?" (**5**)

--

"You realize omote," Set began aloud for what seemed in Seto's mind to be the hundredth time.

"_What?_" Seto snapped back in irritation as the door slammed behind him and once again the circular room began to spin at a dizzying rate.

"This is the twelfth time we have been in this room," Set supplied with far too much enthusiasm to be allowed.

A withering blue stare found its way onto Set's head and proceeded to try and burn through the decidedly un-transparent body part. Set offered a faint smirk in response and watched the room come to a slow pause and glanced around at the collection of doors that surrounded them.

Seto was fairly sure that the spirit of the Rod had given up tormenting him for the time being as he strode towards the doorway directly in front of him until the spirit mused casually aloud, "I wonder if we'll get the room with the brains again.."

"If we do I'll make sure to_ leave_ you there," Seto hissed in response as he gripped the door handle in frustration.

With traces of anger bubbling through him Seto wrenched the door open and sneered over his shoulder in an attempt to annoy the Priest as much as _he _was annoying him, "I bet the Tomb Robber has already found Potter."

What Seto _didn't _see was the decidedly less then ordinary room that they had just entered – not that that was any real indication of anything. Every room they had been in thus far could hardly be classified as _ordinary _in any way shape or form.

"Omote," Set murmured aloud with a slightly dazed expression taking hold of his dark eyes and excitement flirting with his voice.

"I think _we _just hit the jackpot."

Seto whirled his head around and his blue eyes widened considerably with fascination, the only words that deemed themselves worthy of the occasion left his lips as a soft, "oh."

--

"Well, well Mister Ishtar."

Malik was beginning to think that Cornelius Fudge might just be the stupidest person he had ever met – not to mention the person most likely to be picked up by the fashion police and brutalized for crimes against humanity. But more importantly, the stupidest.

"Well, well Cornelius," he responded calmly and stared unabashedly up at the Minister of Magic.

The Egyptian couldn't help but compare his situation with that of a show-down in an old Country-Western movie – and one of the first rules he had learned from those old movies was that eye-contact was the quintessential skill that one needed. That and of course the ability to draw and shoot without faltering – luckily for Yuugi Mutou, Malik Ishtar was quite adept at all of the above.

Lavender eyes were unshakably fixed upon the Minister of Magics own, his tongue was at the ready to spout off the first thing he could think of – no matter how strange or quirky it might have been.

Cornelius Fudge however was quite convinced that he would _not _lose another round in this battle of wills that had taken place, it was not only degrading and disheartening that this teenaged would-be attorney was showing him up, it was infuriating.

With a decidedly sinister smile he picked up the documents that had been presented to him only moments before, it was a clipping from the Daily Prophet that was dated to be around a fortnight or so previous. Accompanying it was a compact file that had been sitting on a desk within the cubicles that made up the beehive of Auror Headquarters. It was a file that was labeled with a single word, and that word was, '_Ishtar_.' (**6**)

Cornelius Fudge seldom smiled these days, his job was far too strenuous and the public was far too critical of him to allow it. But at that moment a wide smile flitted across his lips and he regarded Malik Ishtar for the first time with hints of good humor.

"Mister Ishtar, is it or is it not true that you are the step-brother of a man who goes by the name of Rishiid Ishtar?"

Malik's eye-contact slipped and he took a step backward with surprise. He heard Yuugi inhale a deep breath next to him and found his own breath hitching in his throat as a black cloud ensnared his thoughts.

They _knew. _

Stumbling to recover his composure Malik laughed shakily and glanced over the faces, "I believe this is Mister Mutou's trial – not mine. I don't see what – what relevance _my _relatives have on his innocence, do you?"

Fudge casually patted the file with a faint smile and obligingly responded with a, "none whatsoever Mister Ishtar."

Malik felt the panic that had started thumping in his heart beginning to subside.

"What it _does _have relevance to however, is the credentials of Mister Mutou's _attorney._"

The thumping in his chest renewed with a vengeance and Malik found himself reaching for the glass of water that he was terribly glad he had asked for earlier, he could _feel _Yuugi's eyes resting on his back and attempted to steel himself. Somewhere in his mind however, the strangest feelings of self-doubt had begun to linger and grow, webbing their way through his mind like poisonous shadows that were _oh-so _familiar.

"Now, Mister Ishtar, are you or are you not Malik Ishtar, younger brother of the late Isis Ishtar and Step-brother to the Rishiid Ishtar that is currently in the custody of the Egyptian Ministry of Magic? Are you the Malik Ishtar that has been evading the law in regards to the investigation of Isis Ishtar's death?"

From behind him Yuugi gave a soft gasp of surprise, that Malik couldn't bring himself to acknowledge. Malik could already feel his temper beginning to crack and boil away, his eyes flashed as he gripped the table in an attempt to keep himself composed.

"I don't have to answer that," he replied in a clipped tone.

Malik bit his lip as his hands began to tremble furiously, he knew that if he didn't get his temper in check then something he would regret would happen. He didn't know if he could _stop _him this time. Not with the Pharaoh seated only a meter away, restrained in a chair. Not with the Puzzle hanging so lazily around his neck just waiting to be taken.

"I believe you _do _Mister Ishtar, this is _my _court and you will answer when you are asked a question."

The words that escaped Malik's lips were nothing short of a snarl barbed with venom and warning, "this is not _my _trial. You can not _force _me to talk about my _family. _It has nothing to do with _you_."

Malik found that he was abruptly cut off however by a smooth clearing of the throat from the row of wizards and found his eyes lingering upon the regal and calm form of Albus Dumbledore.

Dumbledore lifted his head and turned it calmly down towards where Fudge was sitting and regarded him with cool blue eyes that were nothing short of terrifying in the depth of power that lingered within them. "I will remind you only _once _Cornelius that this is _not _your court-room. You may be the Minister of Magic, but you are _not _the Chief of the Wizengamot. I believe that title still belongs to me and if you continue to hold this proceeding in an unjust manner then I shall have you removed from the courtroom."

Malik stared with bewilderment at the silver-haired wizard and was fairly certain that the old man had _winked _at him.

"Unless I have gone senile in my latter years I _do _believe that this is the trial of Yuugi Mutou – _not _his choice of attorney."

The Egyptian was fairly _certain _that Dumbledore had winked at him now as he was greeted with the briefest of smiles and a nod of acknowledgment.

Malik glanced over his shoulder and was met with an enthusiastic grin from Yuugi.

"Talk about having friends in high places Ishtar.."

Malik grinned in response and ran his fingers languidly through the hints of dusky fringe that fluttered in his eyes. The beginning of a teasing gleam began to filter through his eyes and Yuugi's eyes narrowed in response.

"Don't even _start_ Ishtar.."

"..._We represent, the Lollipop Guild_._ The Lollipop Guild_.._ The Lollipop Guild_.." (**7**)

* * *

**Footnotes:**

1. I apologize in hindsight for that entire confusing paragraph. I just couldn't bring myself to reword it... _Pro-Efficient Man! AWAY!  
_2. Personally that's the kind of thing I could see Kaiba doing – finding a way to make his "hatred" for Yuugi Mutou profitable.  
3. Any smart cookie who can guess the number of times that Ryou's thrown that dagger out only to have it mysteriously reappear gets full rights to the lint in my pockets.  
4. My mission for this chapter is complete – I have used the word _gallivanting.  
_5. Waha, intriguing development that explains _how _Sirius can take a part in this story. For now however, I will only offer the fact that the archway is _not _a portal to the Shadow Realm in any way or form.  
6. Well.. You didn't think that that article in the Daily Prophet about Isis's death was just there by coincidence did you? It _did _have a purpose  
7. Well.. That I just couldn't resist... I keep on having visions of Yuugi as one of the munchkins from the Wizard of Oz now.. Wish it hadn't come to me..

* * *

**AN: **Well, huge weeping apologies for the amount of _time _this took to get out – not to mention the momentous cliff-hangers that I have once again left you with. You see, I received a rather desperate plea from one poor individual who is in serious need of an update – and another fruit basket by the looks of it. So, an update and hopefully a quicker one in the future as I know precisely what is to happen next. It is just a matter of putting it down in a satisfactory manner. Nonetheless, I will move on to thanking the people who matter; 

**MotherCHOWGoddess: **Wonderful to know what good timing I have – when of course I'm not dithering about trying to decide how I want to something that is. Am _very _glad I put Malik in his lovely suit, it's left a refreshing imprint in my mind that will not cease to go away. You poor, poor individual having to sit through the Barney phase. -twitches- Oh the agony.  
**Millenium-Priestess: **British you say? Interesting. Very _very _interesting. Don't count on Pharaoh's fireworks being over _quite _yet and well – I didn't do anything terrible to Harry.. Well, nothing yet anyway. The Tomb Robber has a few er.. Interesting things to say however and they might just be a little emotionally scarring for everyone's favorite boy-hero.  
**Destiny's Dragon: **Glad you enjoyed the last chapter – unfortunately this one had to be a little more on the sombre side – nothing _near _as bad as the next one however. We call this, transition phase folks!  
**Eden's Echo: **Ahh, so you did pick up on Bakura's little smugness phase. Let's just say Malik couldn't keep his thoughts to himself.. Malik deserves a little fun, the poor buggar, he's had a hard life. You once again guessed absolutely correct, Bakura as of yet hasn't gone off at him but you know.. Bakura doesn't really care if the Pharaoh goes to jail or not. Glad to hear the Atemu/Yuugi interaction worked, would love to know if it gets at all sloppy.  
**Emma: **Hey, I rock your socks. I am most honored. I prize socks above all other worldly goods.. But, long story. Shall continue so I can post..  
**Queen of the Paperclips: **Yeahp, once again right on the mark. Harry went to the Black Veil. I don't know why but Malik just seems like he would make a good lawyer to me..  
**Trisana/Kara: **Glad to hear – hopefully the humor doesn't desert me completely.  
**Chelley Angel: **Aah, listen to all the Malik-Love flyin' at me. The poor boy needs it I say.  
**Neko Moon Goddess: **Aah, twas worth a shot. I needed the ponytail to class him up a bit more.. Perhaps there was a voice-over tape version of "The Lawyers Guide on How to Act Like Seto Kaiba in a Courtroom"? Nice compact and easy. All Malik's style..  
**Kurosaisei: **Well, whatever floats your boat. Personally I tend to get up at 3am and filter through my DVD collection so.. Glad to hear you have joined the Malik-Love club. They have badges now. And little flashy bow ties.. Er.. Your reviews aren't lousy.. They are a great deal more coherent then some I've received.  
**Kazame: **Alright Alright! I relent, I shall – and this is a promise – bring news of Otogi **next **chapter. Hear that, NEXT chapter. Otogi – and lets just say, he _won't _be happy.  
**Lilmatchgirl007: **Another very very sharp tack. Everything _does _happen to Harry. You can't change that if you're writing anything to do with HP.. Sometimes it just happens .. _indirectly _to Harry. And yes, _Otogi _next chapter. Though not actual Otogi. If that makes any sense _at _all.  
**Nachzes Black-Rider: **Yeahp, I guess Harry's Mystery-Destination wasn't so mysterious after all. Oh well, we shall see anyway. I'm fairly sure I reviewed your story, in fact, I'm positive. Yes, positive I say. Now, Update. Or I shall be forced to use my positive thinking on you. Yes.. Positive thinking is a scary and undeniably disturbing thing to mess with.  
**Crystalstorm21: **Yeahp, Malik shall be first-choice in lawyers.. Unfortunately it was Fudge that nearly drove _him _round the twist, but Court Proceedings shall continue and let's just say Malik will be back and better then ever.  
**Arrhythmic Song: **Hopefully you're still holding onto the edge of the cliff by the scraps of your fingernails, for now I have a larger and much more deadly cliff-hanger for you. Personally that was my favorite Malik line, "Malik Ishtar, Attorney for the Defense." Well, shall continue so that these Review Responses don't become longer then the actual chapter.  
**Kekewey: **Very, very glad that this is still amusing the people. You can see my ignorance in the justice system is just as bad as Malik's, for such a good lawyer he surely knows nothing about the Magical Laws. Well spotted with the Invisibility cloak, only a tiny hint that that was there was give. That deserves a big virtual cookie.  
**Princess Star Neko: **Well you were right, someone _did _recognize Malik's name. Poor arrogant Ishtar annnnnd I also agree that Malik should become a real lawyer. He's a class act all around..  
**LovingKitten: **Er.. Is this counted as _soon? _Guess not. I agree about the British, a bit of therapy would do everyone some good.  
**Dawn: **Owch, too late for not causing trouble.. As for the _separation situation_ (that rhymes!) it is mostly a case of if they _want _others to see them or if they aren't concentrating. For example, the first time Snape and Lupin saw Set in spirit form they surprised him and so he wasn't focused on not making himself invisible to them. As in this chapter Ryou made himself known to Harry in spirit form. Hope that cleared it up a bit. Hail Lord Ilpilazzo!  
**Sanjuno Shori: **Glad to hear they're in character. I don't understand why people _do_ gloss over the grudges that the characters hold between themselves, it is so much more _fun _writing these scenes with all of that animosity and dislike in the air. An update for you.  
**MagessKnight: **Glad to hear that I can still keep you on the edge of your seat – laughing none the less. Forever remaining enigmatic, a new chapter just 'cause you asked.  
**Skycat:** You poor poor creature. Have another fruit basket, for your troubles. I think I've started a plague here, but I have a cure – and it's name is.. Chapter Fifteen. I would most definitely like to be Dumbledore as well, he gets the perfect view of it all. Many apologies for your sickly state and I hope rehabilitation_ does_ go well this time. I've even thrown in the elevator.  
**CaptainInuyusha777:** Wonderful wonderful, didn't update fast, apologies. Maybe I could open a Rent-A-Malik business for all your Law Troubles.. Intriguing thought.  
**Ime Back:** Ahh, gotta hate that dontcha. Good point with Bakura, he would have made an_ interesting_ lawyer at least. Thanks for the review. Shall try to update more quickly.  
**Viva Rose:** Interesting you should mention the blowing up.. Nah, not giving away any secrets. You guys are all far to sharp for me..  
**Amant De Mort:** Would you like fries with that?  
**Shiny-Chan:** Wonderful to hear, am all glowing with pride. Ah don't worry about the secrets of the Ishtar family, they'll all come to light in due time and as for Isis, her death won't go unnoticed or unavenged. Twas a regrettable but necessary move. It will all come together at the end.  
**QueenofGames2: **Glad to hear that everyone has much-love for dear Malik. He doesn't tend to get it very much.. Have to pull the sympathy or the hilarious factor out of the works every now and then so he doesn't fade into the woodwork..  
**Ciardra: **What are you talking about? Of _course _taunting Cornelius Fudge is fun. He's been annoying the hell out of me for _quite _some time. Never liked him at all. Twill be a challenge getting dear Pharaoh out of his chains 'n' chair but Malik has a flavor of good ol' Kiwi ingenuity in him somewhere, he'll think of something.  
**Sevter: **Ooh, hope that isn't permanent.. I do rather enjoy torturing Snape.. Only for entertainment purposes of course.. As for the tea/coffee thing, I believe you may be able to get addicted to tea. It _does _have caffeine in it after all. Hmm, shall ponder that one for a while and yeahp, I am and was a GW nutter. I _wonder _how you figured that one ne?  
**Sadistic Introvert: **Hell no Malik isn't done. He still has to get back at Fudge for nearly making him go round the twist..  
**Seto's Girl 2004: **Indeed he will, Indeed he _will.  
_**Cor-chan: **There's nothing else to say accept.. I can _feel _the love tonight baby.  
**BlkDranzer: **Tis a rather scary thought.. The courtroom is an interesting scene for sure and it shall continue..  
**Lily of the Shadow: **YGO/Law&Order.. In a disturbing way I can see it. I think I have done some great wrong here somehow.. Thank god you have the self-restraint to suppress that urge. Because of the many many Pretties another lovely chapter.  
**Star-Goddess Z: **Well, I believe my hat goes off to you. That is quite possibly the longest review I've ever had and believe me, I've had some _whoppers. _Very very pleased to know that this is interesting enough to capture your interest and maintain it for the whole 48 hours.. Now, your points amuse me greatly as they are all so very _very _true and so very _very _.. er.. True. I am the original eyebrow actor, I believe in the power of the eyebrows. Eyebrows tell _all. _I swear, you can tell everything through the positioning of a persons eyebrows.. So very proud to know that Seto is totally in character. If you're gonna do it, do it right at least. Very glad to find someone so enthusiastic about all the research I did into the Ancient Egypt side of this, believe me it was absolutely crazy sifting through all this large dusty novels written by the dullest people on earth – and last but not least; "_Write a novel why don't you?_"  
**Samuraiduck27: **Glad to hear that my attempts at making a unique HP/YGO crossover has gone over well. I can't help it, I just adore Kaiba and how god damned flawed he is. I just can't stand it characters that are too.. _perfect.  
_**Dark Dragon34: **An update! Not particularly quickly.. But still.  
**Koriaena: **Yes. Yes he is. Bow down to his awesomeness.

* * *

"_Don't you try to out weird me – I get stranger things then **you **free with my breakfast cereal."_


	17. Grim Discoveries

**

* * *

**

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Sixteen-**

Grim Discoveries.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

Photographs.

Hundreds upon hundreds of them. Moving and still, newspaper clippings and flyers. Promotional photos, cut-outs from boxes and magazines. Polaroids and surveillance photos. Formal portraits and snap-shots from various holidays.

They were everywhere – plastered to every flat surface inside the room.

Every single one of them was different – and yet Seto Kaiba knew every single face that stared down at him from that wall.

A shiver of disgust traced its way down his spine and Seto involuntarily stepped backwards and straight into Set. All annoyance from moments before melted away with the sight that lay before him – he didn't want to _know _how they had gotten photographs of Mokuba and himself from when they were still at the orphanage. He didn't want to _know _why the walls were strewn with posters of Otogi Ryuuji or why Jounouchi Katsuya's school portrait was so carefully tacked next to what looked like a passport photo of Bakura Ryou. (**1**)

He _certainly _didn't want to know why Mutou Yuugi's face was splashed in amongst the turmoil and he didn't want to know why he was suddenly wishing he had never even thought of coming here.

Subconsciously Seto's mind had already kicked into overdrive.

Without processing what he was truly doing he was already inspecting photographs with a shrewd eye and flipping through strewn files. What stuck first and foremost in his mind however were the questions that simply just didn't add up.

There were far too many coincidences in play – here were hundreds of photographs ranging from over twelve years to six weeks old. All of them featured at least _one _person of Seto's acquaintance – yet quite obviously – many of them weren't in the slightest bit connected to the Sennen Items.

The walls seemed like one big scrap-book of his life.

He simply didn't understand _why _they had surveillance photographs of Otogi Ryuuji from what looked like at least_ three_ years ago. Seto was fairly sure that he had to have missed something somewhere. Dumbledore had been under the impression that the Ministry of Magic were hunting them down for illegal use of dangerous magic – and yet_ before_ he had even received the rod he was being followed.

_And_ if they were suspects simply because of their association with the Sennen Items – then why hadn't the Ministry of Magic been interested in Malik Ishtar? Why hadn't they gone to the trouble of tracking down Pegasus as well? If they had gone to the trouble of following _him_ through America than they certainly were determined enough to be exploring Egypt weren't they?

No, Seto was _convinced _that there was something much bigger here that they were missing.

Seto nearly jumped when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and wheeled him around to meet the dark stare of his counterpart. He stared for several moments with troubled blue eyes at Set before his lips twitched unconsciously and he voiced his thoughts aloud with a visible sheen of doubt lingering in his eyes.

"Is it possible that they knew who I was even before I received the Rod?"

The question hovered uncertainly in the air as for the first time in their acquaintance, Set saw a shred of honest fear in Seto's eyes. That tiny flicker of uncertainty made Set's insides twist so uncomfortably that he had to fight to keep from looking away.

Refusing to give in he stared Seto firmly in the eyes, "it would appear so omote."

With one sweep of the room with his dark eyes he took in the montage of photographs and articles with a restrained shiver and a dark spark alighted in his eyes. His next words were filled with venom and unfocused anger, spoken so quietly that Seto barely heard them, "what _I _would like to know is how – and _why_."

-

"_You don't know what this is, do you?_"

The question hung unpleasantly in Harry's ears, suspended dramatically by the sudden absence of all other sound. It only took a moment for Harry to realize that the other being had even ceased laughing and that his own breathing was dangerously close to stopping.

The wizards eyes shifted carefully from the crumbling archway and towards the face of the Tomb Robber with subdued curiosity. It had never occurred to him to investigate into the _means _of his godfathers death. The veil had lingered within his mind for so long and yet he hadn't even thought to learn anything of it.

Harry found that his throat was suddenly far too dry and his eyes far too _moist. _

At the sneer that abruptly curled across the Tomb Robber's lips he found himself swallowing forcefully and he shifted idly on his feet. "I -" he began, in an attempt to explain _something _and yet having no idea of what it was he meant to say.

Another bark of laughter left the Tomb Robber's lips and he resumed his previous efforts, carefully tracing the runes that had been carved so painstakingly into the crumbling surface. Harry wondered briefly at the fact that Bakura had even known they were there.

It was quite apparent that the Tomb Robber knew _exactly _what the archway was and Harry found it highly unlikely that he would relate the tale without prompting – he didn't exactly seem the story-telling type. Thus it was of great surprise to the wizard when Bakura's voice once again cut through the silence with a rough sneer of, "typical mortals – meddling with powers that they don't understand."

Harry watched as slender pale fingers carefully traced the frame of the archway before the thief stepped away from it with a scowl on his face. It didn't take long for scarlet eyes to whirl around to fix on him before the scowl twisted into a mocking smile and he stepped away from the dais.

"_Your _kind have a very bad habit of taking what doesn't belong to them, did you notice?"

An eerie sensation toyed with the skin on the back of Harry's neck as the Thief languidly cast another glance over his shoulder at the softly fluttering veil. When his eyes returned to Harry the expression on his face was somewhat less scornful and lacked the eerie quality it had only moments before.

"Then again, your kind have always been ignorant to the consequences of their actions. It is no wonder they wouldn't think twice about moving it.. Foolish mortals."

Harry knew that sooner or later his curiosity was going to get the better of him, so in an attempt to prevent wasting any more of _his _time he spoke up carefully, "what -."

Bakura's eyes sharpened fractionally and Harry found his throat uncomfortably dry. For a moment or two the Wizard was sure that he was going to find out what the archway's purpose was the hard way until the Thief swiftly stalked towards the stone steps and lithely settled on the bottom-most step.

"That," Bakura began as soon as he had settled himself accordingly and shot a particularly venomous glare in the direction of his incorporeal other half, "is one of the three Altars of _Isfet._" (**2**)

The Tomb Robber shifted carefully on the stone and settled a mocking scarlet stare upon the Wizard that made Harry shift uncomfortably and scuff his sneakers against the grime-covered stone. Never before had Harry been quite so aware of his own ignorance on the subject of Magical History.

With a determined set of his chin Harry spoke up carefully, "what is it for?"

With some relief Harry found that the spiritual form of Ryou had wandered over towards where Bakura was now perched, his eyes were focused firmly upon those of his other half and had succeeded, somewhat, in taking the bite out of the Tomb Robber's bark.

With a resigned scowl in Ryou's direction Bakura resumed where had left off, with only one withering glare in Harry's direction.

"A long time ago in a time where the threat of war hung constantly over the lands of Kemet, the Pharaoh gave permission for a magical ritual to take place which would create seven items of immense power. These items were created with the darkest of magics, created from flesh and blood they were able to wield a terrible power that the Pharaoh and his Priests didn't understand."

Harry hadn't failed to notice that as Bakura had begun talking his face had twisted into an eerily bitter expression, scarlet eyes flooded with a blank stare of loathing that was not entirely directed at anybody.

"These items had the ability to summon monsters of great and terrible power – these monsters existed inside a void of darkness that became known to the people as the _shadow realm. _With these monsters the Pharaoh and his Priests began to play games of great and terrible power, monster would be pitted against monster in which only the strongest could win. The loser paid in his own blood and soul."

Bakura's lips quirked in an oddly satisfied kind of way as he turned towards Harry, scarlet eyes flashed with bitter amusement, "do you know what it was that they didn't know kid? Do you want to know what those _monsters _really were?"

Harry instinctively found himself stepping backwards, behind his glasses green eyes glittered uncertainly and he found his tongue work uselessly in his mouth for a few seconds before giving a slow nod of response.

"What _Pharaoh _didn't know mortal, was that those monsters they so thoughtlessly pitted against each other – those _monsters _that they tore to shreds and laughingly toyed with were human _souls. _They were the **_Sekhem –_** the life force of those that had fought and lost the games. They were pieces of their _own _souls. Trapped and tormented in an endless void of _darkness. _The _soul _is a very dangerous thing, they are so very easily influenced and poisoned. That was how Ka-monsters were first born – through the actions of the person and it's influences upon the soul a monster was born."

The distinctive gleam that had worked its way into Bakura's eyes seemed to intensify, giving cruel life to his scarlet eyes as he leaned forwards, staring out from behind a curtain of white hair.

"Human souls are funny things kid – they are so very easy to _break. _I don't imagine you could even conceive what it was that that archway over there was created for – could you? Do you believe that the wonderful Pharaoh put an end to the Shadow Games when he learned what it was that he was playing with?" (**3**)

Bakura's words danced through his mind in a mocking stream of endless whispers, they stung and nipped at him just like those vicious eyes that seemed very much reluctant to leave his own now. He could feel the bitter anger that drove fury into his words as keenly as had it been his own – and yet he didn't understand it.

The Tomb Robber's lips were casually moistened with his tongue before he smiled a disgusted smile, "of course he didn't _mortal. _Pharaoh is _god. _The games would not stop until he was satisfied – until the game could be finished."

"Do you know what _Ma'at _is mortal? Ma'at is the embodiment of harmony. Absolute peace and truth and _justice. _The Altars of Isfet were created to completely destroy that balance – to separate what was never _meant _to be separated. The six elements that make up a human being are naturally meant to be held together – that _archway _tears them apart and scatters them. It was with these archways that a persons _Ka_-monster could be fully separated from the soul, what happened to the rest of the soul was not of consequence. It took them quite a while to realize that they could do the precise same thing with the items they had received."

Bakura either didn't notice the strange shade of white that Harry had begun to go or simply didn't care, for when he paused his smile warped into a stretched smirk that was painful to look at. Bakura's words seemed to sink in slowly and it was some time later when Harry spoke again, his voice stubbornly determined and jade eyes fixed stoutly upon the Tomb Robbers face,"what – happens to the person?"

The Thief seemed to deliberate over this for a moment or two, his eerie smile failing to subside or diminish before he chose to speak again, "the spirit of the person – the _Ka _is split into it's two essential essences of dark and light. The_ Khaibit_ or the darkness carries all of the qualities of the Ka that aren't considered to be essentially noble. Sorrow, anger, bitterness, vengeance, lust, cruelty, greed.. The _Khaibit _is destined to forever haunt the place that it suffered the most at. The _Khu _or the light will find its way to the place that the person was happiest at in life – but _never_ will either be satisfied without the other."

"The _Ab _or the heart will lodge itself into a person that meant a lot to it in life, always yearning to be returned to it's original state of wholeness. The _Sahu _or the spiritual body will follow the strongest part of the Ka, dictated by it's power. The _Ba _will simply linger, unable to move on to _Sekhtet-Hetepet _or leave this world. Never at peace. The _Khat _or physical body is neither dead nor living, stuck within the realms of _Ma'at_'s judgment and life."

"But – the _Sekhem _the essence of magic and power, the very _Ka_-monster itself, it will rage free, angered at it's separation from it's being it will haunt the place of its separation unless sealed away. No – your _friend _isn't dead mortal, nor is he living. He is _damned._" (**4**)

An odd twist of Bakura's lips was all that Harry received as his chest constricted painfully and he found his head begin to spin in a nauseating manner. He clenched and unclenched his fists and blinked his furiously in an attempt to clear his vision.

It only took several long drawn breaths for him to regain control over his voice and slowly he began to speak in an uneasy fashion, "if – what you say is true. If.. All of that's true.. Where's that monster that you were talking about?"

An obscure smile lit up the Tomb Robber's face and his eyes glittered with rusty amusement.

"I think that we're just about to find out."

-

Yuugi was beginning to feel just that little bit unnerved.

Not that anyone blamed him – at least Atemu certainly didn't, not that that was much of a surprise. Atemu tended to have something of a blind-spot regarding his precious '_Aibou_'. What Atemu _didn't _realize was that Yuugi often and rather pointedly exploited this 'blind-spot' on regular occasions.

This, however, was not such an occasion.

The reason for Yuugi's distress was really quite understandable and was exactly this; Malik Ishtar, quite simply, didn't know what he was talking about.

It was simple, obvious and horrendously true.

The simple fact terrified Yuugi beyond anything he had ever experienced before simply because Malik was the only thing that was between him and a lifetime in prison.

Even Atemu's confidence was beginning to falter.

A glum sigh attached itself to Yuugi's lips as he felt a tiny flicker of hope shrivel up and die and offered a weak mutter of, '_you think they have dental plans in Wizard Prisons mou hitori no boku?_'

In an attempt to cover up his utter bewilderment and maintain his mysterious facade that was such an integral part of his intimidation tactics Atemu inserted a large amount of vagueness into his voice before he replied, '_I highly doubt it Aibou_.'

Yuugi snuffed out the inexpressible urge to snicker and turned his eyes hopefully back towards where the blond Egyptian was now striding purposefully around the courtroom and using extravagant hand gestures to aid him in his latest wild accusations of mistreatment.

Yuugi felt it entirely appropriate to cringe on Malik's behalf as he caught the end of the Egyptians tirade, " - are you _implying, _Cornelius, that I am _willfully _wasting the time of this court! How could you even _suggest _such a notion! _I, _Malik Ishtar, am an honest, law-abiding -"

Yuugi choked.

A lavender stare swung around to focus in on him with an unnerving twinkling that was obviously supposed to impress some form of warning upon him. It was quite apparent however that Malik was far too late as Fudge's eyes had already rotated onto Yuugi and were narrowing shrewdly.

To his credit, Yuugi turned a magnificent shade of salmon pink and with some quick thinking managed to stumble out a, ".. Water?"

Apparently this was quite enough for Malik to work with and the Egyptian took up with an indignant spluttering and shameful waggling of a finger in Fudge's direction. Yuugi noticed with some bewilderment that the silver-haired wizard that had come to Malik's defense earlier was shaking with what appeared to be mirth and doing a terrible job of hiding it.

"An outrage! Basic human rights being violated right under the nose of our courts! _Where _is the justice! I demand you get my client some water!"

Cornelius Fudge looked like he'd much rather take a hacksaw to Malik's voice box.

With a deep inhale of breath and after counting backwards from ten Fudge spoke up in a determinedly composed voice, "Weasley – fetch some water for Mister Mutou."

The red-head seated at the end of the row rose to his feet, clambered down the staircase and strode purposefully towards the doorway with a distinctly sour expression twisting his lips into an odd line.

Perhaps, if the courtroom hadn't been quite so willing to fall into idle gossip and irritable mutterings they might have noticed the eerie expression that filtered onto Malik's face as Percy Weasley left the room. As it was the Egyptians eyes gleamed oddly and he sauntered far-too-casually towards the desk where his briefcase was set. With the pretenses of shuffling some papers his fingers swept hurriedly over _something _within the case before the lid was clicked shut and Malik was sidling his way towards Yuugi. The odd expression in his eyes made Yuugi very uncomfortable about being chained in place.

"Hey Mutou," the Egyptian drawled aloud with a subconscious fluttering of his unnaturally long lashes and a wide nonsensical smile.

Yuugi didn't quite like the way that Malik was waggling his eyebrow at him.

"_I _just figured out how to get you out of those chains."

-

It was huge.

This was the conclusion that Ryou had come to after staring the giant mass of black fur and dripping fangs eye-to-eye for the past half a minute.

It was _bloody well _huge.

Ryou blinked warily at the dog.

The dog tilted it's massive head and blinked back with an eerily mocking stare in its unnaturally bright eyes. It seemed to consider him before it took another step towards him.

Ryou's hands trembled visibly and he took an opposing step backwards, eyes widening with considerable horror at the fact that not only could the creature _sense _him as he was – but that it was actually advancing on him.

In Ryou's mind it looked good and ready to rip him limb from limb – and he didn't _doubt _that it could do it.

It was a hulking massive thing – all teeth and fur and muscles in Ryou's eyes and _he _certainly wasn't going to stick around to experiment if _Ka_-monsters could injure a persons spirit.

The dog smiled a doggy smile at him – Ryou thought that it was making a statement in showing off it's impressively sharp and pointy teeth.

It cocked its head to one side curiously, as though considering the strange spectacle Ryou was making of himself with some higher consciousness of amusement. Ryou thought it looked very much like it was debating which part of him it would eat first.

The white-haired boy could almost feel his knee's threatening to give out on him altogether and go south for the winter.

'_Bakura.._'

A small amount of panic had begun to well up inside Ryou's chest – Ryou's suddenly very _solid _and _flesh-based _chest.

That small amount of panic quickly became a large and undying _well _of panic.

Breathing seemed to suddenly be a struggle for him as he stumbled backwards again with a faint and yet very audible whimper.

'_Bakura.. It's going to eat me._'

The only response Ryou got was a disgusted snort and something that sounded a lot like the word '_pathetic_'.

The dog took another step towards him and seemed to consider him again before smiling another doggy smile at him, a large slippery pink tongue lolling out the side of it's mouth.

'_Bakura – it's rabid. Did you see that – it's frothing at the mouth.. It could kill me! I don't want to capture it.. You do it. You're the one who insisted on telling Harry all about Ka-monsters – the least you could do is take care of your own messes._'

A deafening slamming of a mental door resounded throughout Ryou's mind, briefly taking his thoughts away from the giant mass of muscle and fur in front of him and giving a faintly glazed look to his eyes.

The dog, obviously having seen it's chance, gave a sudden and booming bark that made Ryou let out a pathetically girlish scream and begin to hare his way up the staircases without any further thoughts about the Dog Safety tips he remembered from his child-hood.

The dog delightedly set after him with a cheerful added bark and scrabbling of paws – and for all the fear that Ryou could muster it was most definitely faster then him.

'_It's gonna eat me!_'

Ryou had the strangest impression that Bakura was _smirking. _

With another girlish shriek Ryou made for the only thing in the room that made any sense to hide behind – Harry.

Needless to say, the Wizard was beyond surprised to find the half-hysterical shrieking white-haired boy suddenly using him as a human shield from the terribly large and boisterous black dog that looked _remarkably _like..

"..Padfoot?"

A pathetic whimper came from Ryou and Harry was shot a horrified look.

"Don't talk to it! Don't_ encourage_ it!"

The Dog gave a cheerful '_woof_' of response to Harry and Ryou let out another shriek.

Harry seemed to slowly absorb the information like a sponge before his eyes widened considerably, his lips stretched slowly into a smile and he began to laugh.

At first it was a quiet chuckle, fueled by a confused whimper from Ryou as _Padfoot _tried to bound around Harry towards him. It quickly grew however until he could barely stand, his eyes were watering behind his glasses and he couldn't remember the last time he had laughed so hard.

"Stop laughing! It's pure evil – it's trying to _kill _me! Didn't you see the way it was looking at me?"

Harry fell to his knee's clasping his stomach and left Ryou wide open and only feet away from the dog. With one barreling leap the giant mass of fur slammed Ryou into the ground and set about licking his face and _breathing_ all over him.

A forlorn yelp of disgust escaped the boys lips and he attempted valiantly to push the giant beast off of him but it was to no avail. Through gasps of air and attempts to control his laughter Harry managed to get out a, "_down_ Padfoot!" and the dog backed off with a wagging of it's tail and wide doggy grin in Ryou's direction.

The white-haired boy sat up with a visible shudder and shot a determinedly disgusted glare in the dogs direction.

"_Mutt,_" he huffed out with a resolute pout forming upon his face that made him look more or less like a five-year-old.

'_I think you've been around Kaiba for too long Yadunoshi.. You're beginning to sound like him_.'

The white-haired boy wiped at his face with a sleeve and grimaced visibly.

He cast a surly look in Harry's direction and found that the boy was still chuckling even as he scratched the dog behind the ears.

Ryou frowned and turned his head away.

At least _someone _was having a good day.

-

Seto Kaiba jumped visibly as a sudden and very unexpected obnoxious beeping cut through his thoughts.

Set himself whirled around with a distinctly wider than usual stare and watched as Seto dug into his pocket hurriedly and withdrew and flashing and beeping little back box that looked a lot like a shrunken version of one of Mokuba's hand-held video games. Seto peered at the screen of it for a second before his eyes narrowed and he turned sharp blue eyes upon Set.

"It's time to leave."

-

Unbeknownst to Percy Weasley, who was striding towards Yuugi with the air of a man on a vitally important mission, there was something very very different about the defense party when he re-entered the room.

If he had stopped to think, he might have noticed that Malik Ishtar's briefcase was no longer lying open upon the desk. He also might have noticed that Malik's hand was fixed idly within his jacket pocket and that somewhere, deep in the bowels of the Ministry of Magic an irritable beeping had been occurring for the past few minutes.

What was most noticeable, however, was the forced expression of indifference that Malik Ishtar currently wore, which was completely and utterly spoiled by an irregular twitching of his right eyebrow that seemed beyond the Egyptians muscle control.

Percy, however, had never been particularly interested in the strange quirks of other people.

So with an air of self-importance the red-head swept towards Yuugi and with a barely contained scowl held the glass of water to Yuugi's lips.

For several moments nothing of any particular consequence happened, allowing (of course) for Yuugi to be drinking and Percy to continue scowling, but abruptly something completely out of the ordinary began to happen.

Yuugi began to choke.

The glass clattered to the ground with a smash and Percy back-peddled hurriedly in surprise as a horrendous gurgling noise began to rise from Yuugi's throat.

As chaos broke loose in the courtroom Malik gave a completely unnecessary and far too loud exclamation of, "he's _choking!_"

Percy jumped visibly at the proclamation, his eyes becoming distinctly round behind horn-rimmed glasses as his brain struggled furiously with the concept of '_what in the bloody _hell _do I do now?_'. Before he knew it Malik had rounded on him and an outlandish finger was quivering recklessly as it honed in on him.

"_You _made him choke! This is a _conspiracy_ -"

By now Yuugi had turned a very convincing shade of red and continued to make a series of noises that put one in mind of a cat coughing up a hairball.

It was very apparent to Percy that he needed to act extremely quickly if he was to salvage any of his respective career prospects, so when the deranged 'attorney' gave a cry of, "_quick! Undo the chains so we can turn him on his side!_" he knew exactly what he had to do.

Perhaps if Percy had been _less _concerned with the good opinion of his employer and _more_ concerned with the situation at hand, he might have noticed the flash of amused garnet that stole across '_Yuugi_'s features just as his wand touched the chains flanking the captives wrists.

What he _also_ might have noticed was the strangely regal posture of the captive and that the fashion in which he now sat in the interrogation chair was more befitting of a King upon his throne.

Such was the chaos of the court that it took a good few minutes for them to realize that the _choking _captive was certainly not choking. But rather, observing them with pitying amusement and toying listlessly with the gaudy golden trinket at his neck.

Percy looked on in dumbfounded silence as the teen stood, then stretched out his limbs with a boneless grace before bestowing him with an enigmatic smirk that made the red-head freeze in his tracks.

Malik cheerily hoisted the briefcase off of the desk and turned to observe with a lilting grin as Atemu suavely readjusted the blue fabric of his jacket and turned the full power of his stare upon the red-head.

Shreds of mockery lit up garnet eyes before he spoke in a lilted half-laughing tone that somehow managed to encompass the oozing enigma that seemed to flow from Atemu's being, "you're _far _too kind."

It was mere seconds before Cornelius Fudge had leapt to his feet in outrage, his eyes blistered with rage as he drew his wand with an furious yell of, "stop them you fools!"

Garnet eyes glittered in a curious fashion as he glanced first towards Malik and then to Fudge with startling amusement. The Egyptian cast a distinctly deranged smile in the Minister of Magic's general direction and shrugged his shoulders pointedly, pulling loose the Windsor Knot at his throat with a relaxed air.

"Oh we're not going anywhere," Malik interrupted with a distinctly snide tone that had quickly dropped any formality he had used in his masquerade as an attorney, "at least – not yet."

Malik's lips curled into an obscure smile that made Fudge suddenly very doubtful of the boys mental health. "I do believe I have a few friends who would be very – interested in meeting you. They should be along soon enough."

Atemu languidly brushed a finger over the puzzle and eyed the congregation of wizards with an imperious smile. "I don't advise you to do that," he commented absently in Percy's direction with a nod in the direction of his wand which had risen sharply.

The red-head seemed to think it wise to lower his wand, after all, it was quite apparent that whoever their captive actually _was _he had enough power to frighten the Ministry of Magic into thinking he should be locked up in Azkaban.

"_Dumbledore!_" Fudge hissed abruptly in irritation.

Atemu's eyes glanced down the row towards the elderly man who had spent the majority of the trial laughing at Malik's antics and raised an eyebrow curiously. Whereas the rest of the courtroom had their eyes trained upon himself and Malik _this _man was currently peeling plastic from what appeared to be some sort of sweet.

Dumbledore looked up with twinkling blue eyes and glanced towards Fudge with a faint smile, "yes Cornelius? Did you change your mind?" (**5**)

Fudge's forehead furrowed in confusion for a second before he let out a growl of irritation and waved his hand dismissively, "why aren't you _doing _anything about them!"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow carefully and offered a faint smile of amusement, "because Cornelius. I am very _interested_ in meeting these friends that Mister Ishtar is talking about."

With a faintly absent smile the Headmaster nodded in Malik's direction before resuming his previous actions and ignoring the fury that filled out Fudge's face.

It turned out that they didn't have to wait all that very long, for within several minutes of unnerving silence (in which Atemu smirked a lot and Malik tapped erratically at the silver briefcase with an absent expression) the door burst open.

It was quite a feat, Atemu found himself acknowledging, to be able to make a door slam _open – _and yet Seto Kaiba was more then adept at the practice. He was – if there was such a thing – a master of dramatic entrances.

Today there was no helicopter, no dramatic wind or multiple television screens broadcasting his face around an entire city, there was no giant blimp or flashy vehicles – but Seto Kaiba had no trouble in making an impression.

With a prime example of how to walk into room and succeed in catching _every _individuals attention Seto swept inside. Blue eyes flashed in a dazzling array of stone-cold amusement, his lips had hitched into an oddly warped smirk and the very way he _moved _screamed of some higher class that none of the other occupants of the room could ever hope to _reach _let alone match.

Atemu rather thought that Seto must have been practicing.

With a contemptuous sweep of the room with his dark eyes Seto Kaiba paused, making a magnificent silhouette against the back-lit corridor and gave them all a fine view of the profile that was gracing wanted-posters all over Diagon Alley.

"Well," Seto mused in a deliciously drawling tone that made Malik look up with a shimmer of amusement in his eyes, "I don't believe we've met."

With several swift steps he was standing between Malik's desk and Atemu and was regarding Cornelius Fudge with an eerily powerful stare. His fingers were curled absently around the Rod as though he were debating whether it's use would be necessary or not. The other hand – oddly enough – had what looked like a bunch of photos and files clutched between the fingers.

Now that Atemu took a closer look he could see a familiar dangerous sheen flirting with the other boys eyes and that the particular smirk he wore was decidedly colder then any he had seen in a very long time.

The recognition that had slammed into the faces of the gathered Wizards was almost comical to look at but none more so then the expression that had slithered onto Cornelius Fudge's face. His eyes filled with an indignant fury and he rose to his feet as his face turned a brilliant shade of crimson.

"_You_," he snarled out with a quivering finger rising to jab through the air viciously in Seto's general direction.

The slight twitch of Seto's lips was all that belied his amusement as his head cocked on a arrogant angle as he regarded Fudge. With a cold sneer he tossed the files and photographs in his hand down onto the desk beside him and rose a flashing blue stare upwards that made a great deal of the esteemed Wizengamot's skin crawl.

"_Me_," he snarled back with a sharp gesture in the direction of a collection of pilfered photographs that had scattered across the desk in a disorganized bramble.

Malik didn't seem to appreciate having been completely disregarded the moment that Seto walked into the room – mostly considering all of the hard work he had put in, in distracting the court from sentencing Yuugi. So with an extravagant smile he caroled loudly to the collection of Wizards, "allow me to introduce my colleague, Seto Kaiba."

A dark look flashed in the Egyptians direction and went duly ignored.

Atemu's lips curled with amusement as Yuugi's voice floated absently through his head, '_I think it's nice that Kaiba-kun's finally making friends._'

A completely _different _thought had gone through Atemu's mind – one that he simply couldn't help putting into words.

"Ishtar – Kaiba, I'd like to be the first to congratulate you on your upcoming Wedding." (**6**)

Malik choked and went very pale.

Seto's eyebrows shot towards his hairline and his eye's flashed menacingly.

Yuugi tried valiantly to muffle his snickering inside Atemu's mind.

Atemu congratulated himself heartily and offered a smug smirk in the pairs direction as two livid pairs of eyes struck him, "don't tell me I'm not the first – I thought you were eloping?"

Sometimes even the most perceptive of people can fool themselves into not seeing the very blatantly obvious and quite unfortunately for Atemu he had fallen victim to such an act. It was possibly a very good thing that Set had such a sense of loyalty instilled towards the Pharaoh within him as it was this and this alone that saved Atemu from facing an undeniably gruesome death for a second time.

The distraction however had been quite enough.

Cornelius Fudge, despite the abounding levels of lesser qualities he possessed as a leader, was not in any way a completely stupid man – and being gifted with such an opportunity was so extremely rare that he didn't think twice about it.

Within moments every Wizard in the courtroom had there wands directed towards their bickering adversaries and with a roar of, "_Now!_" a tremendous cascade of red light streaked towards the trio before they could even look to protect themselves.

Needless to say the sudden explosion of shadow that engulfed the courtroom came of great surprise to all of the occupants within it. The shadows writhed and twisted, drinking in the red magic with raw thirst before breaking away with scolded obedience.

Three faces were bestowed with decidedly wide eyes as they turned unconsciously to regard the final occupant of the room that nobody had seemed to notice slipping into the room.

Scarlet eyes glittered with a moon-stricken glow and a wide distorted smile had become something of a display-case for the many shining _pointy _teeth.

"Well well," came the soft mocking drawl that made skin crawl and spines tingle, "I think that it's about time we were leaving – _don't _you?"

-

The welcoming that the group received upon their arrival at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was most definitely not _welcome_ in Seto's books.

The second that the group stepped within the doors they were affronted by a very red, very _furious _Molly Weasley with a distraught air that did not subside until she caught sight of Harry at the very back of the group.

Thrusting Malik aside and barging her way through Ryou and Yuugi she grasped the young Wizard by the shoulders before crushing him in a barbarically strong bare-hug that made Seto unconsciously shudder. Yuugi stared in wide-eyed confusion as he was quite-near flung into the nearest wall and took several moments to observe the phenomena with decidedly over-sized amethyst eyes.

Seto, however, was not in the least bit fooled that this was all that would come of their outing.

Surely enough within minutes Mrs Weasley had released Harry and rounded on Seto with a stare of such vicious intensity that he wondered absently if she had ever considered going into business. "You – you high-minded arrogant _foolish _boy! How _dare _you – how _dare _you take Harry out of this house without any of us knowing! How _dare _you use him for your own selfish reasons.."

Malik's lips curled into a decidedly amused grin and he looked good and ready to sit back and watch the fireworks.

"How could you even _consider _such a stupid idea! He could have been killed or captured or _lord _knows what! What if the Ministry had found him? No doubt they'd get _him _thrown into Azkaban as well as the rest of you! After _all _that we've done for _you!_"

The verbal assault left Molly red-faced and beyond the realms of fury, Harry was trying to back away with very little success -it seemed the rest of the order had begun to enter the hall and behind the thick velvet curtains high pitched shrieking had begun.

"_Stains of dishonor, filthy half-breeds, blood traitors, children of filth..._"

"Disrespectful pig-headed boy! I want you out of this house. -"

The _similarity_ that Seto noticed between the two voices was deafening and yet a surge of irritation had begun to rise within him. His lips twisted into an ugly sneer and his eyes flooded with blinding cold.

"You have no right to judge me you ignorant _stupid _woman. I never wanted to be here – I never _wished _to be dragged out of my home and to be caught up in your idiotic_ war _– I never _asked _for you to hold my brother in your grasps making it impossible for me to _leave. _You have never earned nor gained my respect – you don't _deserve _my respect -"

Set's hand filtered down to rest solemnly on Seto's shoulder, his dark eyes were filled with burning anger and yet when he spoke it was in a cool collected tone that was laced with ice.

"I _think _that you've said quite enough," was his quiet reprimand when Molly opened her mouth to renew her tirade.

"Quite right," came the silken sneer from the stairway.

Severus Snape cast a flicker of dark disgust in Molly's direction which was just as easily redirected onto Harry, "I don't doubt that Potter went of his own accord."

"The main point," was the carefully spoken affirmation from amidst the jumble of Order members, "is that Harry is safe and unharmed."

Remus Lupin's lips quirked oddly as he glanced towards Harry and gave a brief nod and a smile before turning his eyes back upon the remainder of the group to settle upon Yuugi with a faint raise of an eyebrow.

"Ah, you must be Yuugi Mutou," he acknowledged with a faint shimmer of _something_ lingering in his eyes.

An ironic twist of his lips came about as the boy nodded cautiously and Remus cast a half-smile around at the over-crowded hallway with amusement even as the dulcet tones of Mrs Black roared in the background.

"Welcome to the '_Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_'."

-

The rest of the day had been spent in a haze of frosty silence. Seto was sensationally anti-social towards everyone and anyone apart from Mokuba – carrying over a large amount of anger from his clash with Mrs Weasley.

The amount of people who had crammed themselves into the '_House of Black_' seemed, in Seto's eyes, to have overwhelmed Yuugi. The King of Games had spent most of his time so far trying to stir up conversation in Seto (with very little success) and the other half being introduced to the vast amount of members of the Order who had stuck around for the aftermath of the Kaiba/Weasley stand-off.

Among them all, Seto had noted with some amusement,Molly Weasley's first impression had been one of the more memorable. _Her_ staring in point-blank horror at _his_ choice of apparel and less then conventional hair and yet managing to greet him with a warmth that he would have deemed impossible considering her earlier eruption. Seto had come to the conclusion that Molly Weasley had found herself another 'favorite'.

Ryou had been quietly observing Harry from the moment they had walked in the door and had noticed, with a sad smile, that the boy had yet to take his hand out of the pocket that the now sealed '_Padfoot_' or rather ' _Upuaut_' (as Bakura had mysteriously referred to it as) now resided in.(**7**)

Malik had spent a great deal of time loudly relating his ordeal within the courtroom to an apathetic Seto Kaiba, a politely not-listening Ryou and anyone else who was able to keep their eyes from glazing over.

What struck Seto as the most odd thing of all was the lack of _reaction _from Harry's friends about the boy leaving – he wondered absently if they were saving it for when they could have some privacy.

Thus Seto had spent the majority of the day, fading through to late-afternoon until a door burst open and Mrs Weasley had rushed inside with a strangely excited expression upon herself – carefully avoided getting to near Seto's designated chair and had approached the conspiring whispers of Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Narrowing his eyes over the top of his laptop he watched sharply as the woman cast a hurried look in Ginny's direction, who was currently trying to beat Mokuba at one of his video games before waving a piece of parchment wildly in her hand and breaking into a wide grin.

"Your brothers _engaged!_"

A grimace stole across Seto's face and he turned back to his work, however impossible it was to ignore the decidedly _loud _tone of Mrs Weasley's voice.

Ginny dropped the video game and craned her neck around curiously as Ron glanced up somewhat interested. "Which one?" Ron muttered out as he pretended to toss a card down onto the pile that sat between the trio, the game had been lying dormant for some thirty minutes previously.

Mrs Weasley snorted loudly and rolled her eyes, "what do you _mean _which one Ron! _Charlie _of course! He's coming home next week!"

Ginny's eyes lit up considerably, "does he say who too? Is it one of his dragon-preserving types? She isn't going to be all, '_Save the Dragons_' is she? The moment she starts asking us to protest and chain ourselves to trees I swear I'm out.."

Seto's lips curved unusually and he glanced up to find (with some annoyance) that several eyes had flicked in his direction as soon as the word _dragon _had been mentioned.

A sharp glare was thrown in all offending parties directions and a scowl folded itself across his lips.

'_Pathetic. Anyone would think that I was obsessed.._'

Seto sensed the strange dark lilt of laughter through his mind and narrowed his eyes even-more-so, ignoring the somewhat amused expressions that crossed his companions faces.

'_I am **not **obsessed._'

A loud snort echoed through Seto's head and he felt Set's presence detach from his mind before draping across the back of his chair with an amused smirk curling across his lips.

'_If that's what you believe omote, then I am hardly going to convince you otherwise.._'

Blue eyes shot sharply towards Mrs Weasley in an attempt to ignore Set's mocking dark glare. With a furrowed brow he watched as Molly cast a distasteful frown in her only daughters direction and clucked her tongue, "honestly Ginny! Don't be silly, he's coming home and bringing _her _with him. He doesn't say who it is exactly but.."

The letter itself was abruptly snatched from Mrs Weasley's hands and Seto watched as the eldest Weasley present read it and rolled his eyes decidedly obviously.

Within moments he had let out a disgusted snort and rolled his eyes, "Mum – he doesn't even _say _he's engaged. He just said that he's coming home and bringing someone with him.."

Molly narrowed her eyes in Ron's direction and waved an arm dismissively, "of _course _he's engaged Ron. What did he say after that – 'I think you'll all be very interested to meet them'. Who _else _would he bring home with him?"

Seto kept his eyes firmly upon the center of the conversation as Set lent over the back of Seto's chair and began to breathe, in that oh-so-irritating fashion of his, on the back of his neck in the pretenses of reading the contents of Seto's screen.

Ginny grinned privately to herself and added an innocent, "a pretty little Norwegian Ridgeback he found in the rugged terrain of Norway?" (**8**)

"Oh that's enough Ginny! _Honestly_. -"

'_I think the little snots company has done wonders for that girl._'

Seto's eyebrow twitched irritably.

Hermione hid a smile behind a hand and attempted to maintain her composure, "er.. I'm very happy for you Mrs Weasley."

A smile greeted Molly's lips and she nodded at Hermione, "thank you dear."

'_ - And the thief called **me **a bad liar.._'

Seto's lip quirked and his eyes flickered sharply towards Set before sneering back aloud, "oh, so we value the 'thief's' opinions now do we Set? I thought that the _mighty _High Priest didn't listen to a word that 'traitorous abomination of his mighty race' said?"

Several faces whirled sharply towards the pair at having heard Seto speak with some confusion and Set narrowed his dark eyes in flustered irritation, straightening up from where he had been lounging against Seto's chair and folding his arms defensively across his chest.

"That was a cheap shot omote."

Seto's lip curled in an oddly amused smirk and he raised an eyebrow daringly, flicking shut his laptop and turning his head casually so he could look at the Spirit of the Rod. " - And I _suppose _you forgetting to mention the minor detail that you intended to sacrifice my _life _for the 'greater good' as you call it was particularly tasteful?"

The eyebrows belonging to the persons of several listening ears shot up simultaneously towards their hairlines.

Set's eyes glinted dangerously as he cast a quick look towards where a particularly wide-eyed Yuugi Mutou – not to mention his tag-a-long spirit were now openly staring at them.

"We've discussed this omote – I thought you were _over _it."

Blue eyes met Set's stubbornly and a haughty laugh ripped up Seto's throat that had all the warming cheer of a blizzard in Winter.

"_Over _it Set? You made a threat against my life and you've made it _very _clear that your loyalties lie towards your 'Pharaoh'. How do I know that you aren't simply saying what you _know _I want to hear?" (**9**)

A snarl or irritation erupted from Set's lips and he tossed his head aside in a flash of temper that was entirely uncommon from the spirit. "I _promised _that I will never harm you _or _your family. Does my word mean _nothing _to you omote?"

For an odd second Set's eyes seemed to lose their furious anger and after a few seconds a strange curling smile rolled across his lips though his eyes still blazed.

"Would you prefer me to – _prove _myself again?"

Malik choked and began to splutter loudly, having turned a very _interesting _shade of crimson.

Several very odd stares turned towards the Egyptian who covered his mouth hurriedly with both hands.

Seto's eyes turned towards the Egyptian with some amusement beginning to shine through, he raised an eyebrow ever so casually and glanced towards Set as his anger threatened to subside once again without any _true _resolution being made.

"Perhaps _Ishtar _would like you to prove yourself."

Said Egyptian began to shake violently with laughter and he buried his face into his hands.

An awkward silence rose through the air as Malik continued to shake with silent laughter and Set regarded Seto with stormy dark eyes that were filled with something not-quite-unlike irritation.

Yuugi stared between the Kaiba look-a-likes with a troubled stare that was only amplified by the crimson-eyed spirit that lingered near his side. Whether Seto or Set noticed this however went undiscovered as with a faintly drawn smirk Seto flicked his laptop open again and proceeded to ignore his surroundings and their occupants.

For some time Yuugi continued to stare hopefully between the pair but found that it was inevitably drawn away by a loud screeching noise that originated from somewhere right behind him. It brought a close to Mrs Weasley's gushing insistence that her son _would _be bringing home a fiancee and made Yuugi nearly jump several feet in the air.

Virtually unnoticed to the majority of the room it also made Seto grip the arm-rests of his chair with an unconscious shudder.

Within seconds Hermione was scrambling for the window, unminding of Atemu who she passed straight through in her hurry to unlatch the lock and allow the tawny screech owl clutching the days copy of '_The Daily Prophet_' in it's talons admittance.

While the Pharaoh gave a _very_ affronted scowl in the girls direction as she fished several bronze coins out of her pocket in exchange for the paper, several snickers erupted from two certain occupants of the room.

When the owl had left the way it came (and Seto had released his grip on the armchair) Hermione turned on her heel with the Daily Prophet in hand, giving only a brief flash of a headline in Seto's direction that failed to find any relevance within Seto's brain.

'_Ministry Fears Worst from Azkaban Breakout._'

* * *

**Footnotes:  
**1. There is one slight clue in here that you might pick up – though the relevance of it won't be particularly apparent until much later on.  
2. '_Isfet_' basically means disorder and chaos. The opposite to Ma'at. I chose this name basically because the archways are created to upset the natural balance of the soul – which is of course, to be kept together.  
3. Do remember this is Bakura speaking, so we can naturally assume that it _wasn't _the Pharaoh who had the Altars created but rather Akunadin.  
4. Okay – heres the big one. This entire _idea _is based around the knowledge of the Egyptian religion and their theories on what made up a human being. The 'Ka' is seen as the _spirit_, it supposedly remained on Earth after death to partake in funerary offerings and was known to 'haunt' the places of its living. The Khat is the physical body. The Sahu the spiritual body. The meaning of the Khaibit or the 'Shadow' is usually obscure, where the Khu or light is typically connected with the Ba or the Soul. For the purposes of the YGO verse I chose to relate both the Shadow and Light as the parts of Ka. The Ba serves as the 'eternal soul' which supposedly was continuously reborn until it had reached a state of 'enlightenment' in which it became a star up in the Heavens. The 'Ab' or the heart is what held the conscience of the person – the essence of right and wrong if the heart was heavy with sin then it would be devoured upon judgement. Lastly the Sekhem is the 'vital force of a man' or rather the source of his power – I chose after some amount of time to use this as the inner 'Ka-monster'. It _really _surprised me in researching this to see just how much effort had gone into making YGO very in line with the Ancient Egyptian views.  
5. Ahh.. I decided it was about time Dumbledore got to have a bit of fun.  
6. Er.. in reference to Malik's "eloping to Sweden" comment last chapter.  
7. '_Upuuat_' is an Egyptian Guardian God in the Shape of a Canine – seemed appropriate to me.  
8. -grins- Perhaps not a Norwegian Ridge back.  
9. In case you didn't notice – Kaiba really _can _hold a grudge. I can see him being _very _reluctant to let something like that go quite so easily – even if he doesn't really mean it.

* * *

**AN: **Big fat apologies for the amount of time this took to get out – thats why it's so _stupendously _long. I shall try and squeeze the Review Responses in but wish to get this posted tonight.

* * *

**MotherCHOWGoddess: **Er.. It wasn't really _that _long was it? Ahh well – an update none the less. 

**Samuraiduck27: **Yes – you guessed right. An update.

**Sadistic Introvert: **Ahh how _very _right you are – the Ministry definitely aren't giving up easily.

**Skycat: **An apology for the lengthy wait – but on the bright-side an uber-long chapter. Good Luck on that First Step!

**Kurosaisei: **Glad you decided to stop by the Malik fan club – even if only for a short duration. Happy updating seasons.

**Eden's Echo: **Ah, that wasn't made particularly clear was it. I assumed – as I often do when I get lazily – that one would assume what with Harry being in Cahoots with the YGO gang in their big rescue mission that he would have discovered Bakura and Ryou's being separate people. Ah well, lazy lazy. Malik is simply 'wanted for questioning' Fudge made it seem like more 'cause he wanted Malik out of his hair – and as for the Archway. Ah, a lot of early 'explorers' took rather a liking to taking home souvenirs from Egyptian Tombs – I assume the Wizards were the same.

**Destiny's Dragon: **Good guess – but not quite.

**Queen of the Paperclips: **Well done for your successful use of the word 'merited'.

**Nachzes Black-Rider:** Why thank you. It's more fun this way – lets just say there are many adventures afoot in the search for Sirius' soul.

**Musou: **Ooh I personally have a good cry whenever I hear that that movie is coming on TV again but that opportunity I simply couldn't pass up. Er Pro-efficient man was born of too much Coke and Coffee mixed with far too little sleep and am enormously pleased to see the Half-Blood Prince coming out sooooooon.

**Trisana/Kara: **Court is adjourned..

**Koriaena: **May have been good to wipe out the wizards – but I doubt it would have boded well for poor Yuugi.

**Curtis Zidane Ziraa: **She did rather didn't she?

**Crystalstorm: **Ah dear Malik wouldn't let that happen.. He's to _good. _

**Downtrodded: **I should think so! Malik puts in _so _much effort.

**LovingKitten: **Well there definitely is something dodgy going down in regards to _why _they're after our Item-holders.

**Sanjuno Shori: **Another update – a particularly _large _one to make up for time.

**Kimpatsu no Hoseki: **Ahh, dear Sirius is kinda hanging in the balance..

**Millenium Priestess: **Lol, you got it in one. Though I prefer the term 'kooky' it has that pizazz. It was very much so _meant _to be confusing so glad I did my job. Enjoy.

**Chelley Angel:** Owch.. Bakura is hardly the kind of guy you want to explain that sort of thing is it – at least Ryou proved a good source of entertainment in the end.

**Viva Rose:**All in good time.. all in good time.

**Lilmatchgirl007: **Definitely with the writers block. -twitches- It _did _seem very abrupt for JKR – but you know, lookit Cedric's death as well. I suppose that the Veil could be seen as an accessory to the Shadow Realm. Otogi! Otogi! Though I wouldn't be sure _which _Weasley sibling 'togi will be hitting on.

**Lily of the Shadow: **Well, again with those 'pretty pleases'.

**Night-Owl123: **An update for you.

**Jak'idiot: **Thank you and an update.

**Cor-chan: **I think I resolved the majority of the mini-cliffies. How _nice _of me to not leave you hanging for once.. Oh wait, I suppose you could count _that _as a cliffie. Ahh hell.. it's a disease I tell you.

**Ciardra: **Woo! That sentence made sense to someone other than _me! _

**MistressKC: **Cheeeeers, those two are so much fun to have interact..

**Bob**: Have written more – thanks for reviewing.

**Raia-Ra: **-blinks- I don't know if I should be endorsing that kind of practice.. but hell I'm all flattered n stuff so I'll let it go – as for defenestrate, I'll have to find a situation for it first. Takes some _very _careful planning to just work that in there.

**WindWitch: **You were perfectly right in expecting explanations – like that huge mess of Egyptian Religious/Philosophies up _there _that I expect _many many _questions and simple "Huhs?" about but none the less. I have a ball writing this fic – puts me in the most _glorious _mood ever.

-

'_We have normality. I repeat, we have normality. Anything you still can't cope with is therefore your own problem._'


	18. Just Like Jesse James

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Seventeen-  
**Just Like Jesse James

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

In the morning following Yuugi's arrival, the House of Black was bustling with gossip and good cheer. In fact, the only members of the household that seemed at all lacking in the good spirits that had somehow staked a claim on the household were the rather pensive younger witches and wizards. (**1**) 

Seto had yet to discover the reason for this second display of behavior - and to be brutally honest he wasn't feeling particularly inclined to waste his time asking. As far as he was concerned the Wizards and Witches of the household could be as miserable as they saw fit – _he _certainly was.

A distinctly sour expression had worked its way onto his face barely half an hour after coming into contact with Yuugi Mutou and his illustrious other half and it had yet to remove itself.

Mokuba, quite to the contrary, had taken great delight in Yuugi's sudden appearance - something that Seto wasn't quite willing to forgive him for. Not that the younger Kaiba had taken any amount of notice of his older brother, in fact, he had had the audacity to tell him to stop sulking. This, Seto thought he could have accepted, but what _really_ irked Seto was that _Set_ was inclined to agree with the 'little snot'.

Thus had begun the war of silence that currently prevailed within Seto's stronghold of the downstairs Living Room. Yuugi Mutou had yet to infiltrate at least _this _part of the house and for that the elder Kaiba was begrudgingly grateful. Not that he deluded himself with the idea that his good fortune would last for long – Yuugi Mutou had never failed in meddling in his life before and he strongly suspected the midget would not surrender without a fight.

With a deepening frown-line shadowing his brow Seto hunched himself further over his lap-top and cast a particularly pungent scowl in the doors direction. Rubbing his itching eyes with a slight huff Seto returned his attention to the screen and read with quickly dwindling interest of the latest fiasco that had befallen his poor, neglected company.

The email seemed to follow the same lines of the others that had preceded it – some faceless malice of incompetence had somehow crept onto his pay-roll and now made himself known to the world in Seto's absence. Needless to say, Seto was not the least bit amused.

Nor, it could be said, was the spirit that had been pacing the worn carpet in front of the elder Kaiba for the past ten minutes.

Having failed continuously throughout the night to extract any amount of recognition from his very pointedlysilent other half, Set was beginning to enter the first stages of true irritation. Seto was infuriatinglygood at ignoring the existence of anyone and everyone he did not wish to acknowledge – and at this point in time that happened to include Set.

Set paused in his pacing and settled to scowling at his very-much-so unmoved companion and slumping down on the nearby couch. After several moments of this failing to entice any amount of response Set was faced with only one other option.

"Omote."

Set watched as Seto casually set aside his laptop and took up the mass of entangled wires that contributed to the inner circuits of a new model Duel Disk prototype.

Fingers twirled callously through slips of wire, eyes drifted carefully aside and lips twitched in their stubborn scowl. Seto rolled his shoulders with a visible grimace, a testament to the nights worth of work he had set himself to with a strange vigor. His eyes itched infuriatingly as he blinked sleep away.

"_Omote._"

Set lent forwards in his chair, eyes sweeping over the mine-field of belongings that had been discarded during the course of the night. A familiar trench coat lay forgotten on a nearby chair, his shoes in a lazy mess at the foot of his chair and his shirt rolled back and half-unbuttoned. His hair was beginning to show the effects of a night without sleep, having escaped its usual controlled spill of chaos to stick up in some curious angles.

Set frowned and rose to his feet once again, cutting a direct course towards the stubbornly silent cause of his irritation. Only a corner of his lip quirked before Seto hunched further over the mass of wires and chips, eyes squinting through the dim morning light in an attempt to find the glitch he knew existed somewhere.. _somewhere. _

Seto pointedly ignored the brush of fingers that set aside thick traces of chestnut in an attempt to search out his eyes.

"Omote – you can't hide in here forever. You _will _have to talk to him eventually."

"Not if I can help it.." was the grudging response, eyes flippantly ignoring the wheedling tone and continuing their scrutiny of the circuit.

_Where _was that damned error coming from? Maybe a frayed wire..

Fingers poked and prodded at the errant wires with a darkening frown. An irritated huff flooded his ears and Seto found his lip twitching once again.

"I'm busy," Seto grunted out obligingly, voice gruff with the same affliction that made his eyes itch.

Set's lips curled with a shadow of amusement.

"You're hiding," he corrected with a slight tilt of his head, dark eyes attempting to catch sight of an elusive sliver of blue.

A flash of victory rose through the spirits being as his others head snapped up with indignation coloring his features. "I am _not_," Seto responded with a narrowing of blue eyes, "I am simply catching up on some work."

The mocking laughter that greeted these words was met with a stiffening of Seto's shoulders and a thoroughly irritated glower.

"I think the brat would have something to say about you spending all night '_catching up on some work_'," the spirit mused with a decidedly smug glance in Seto's direction.

"I suspect he would," was the grumble of response as the Duel Disk prototype was prodded somewhat aggressively with a slender finger.

"You're acting rather like a spoiled brat omote."

With a vicious stab of blue in Set's general direction he replied.

" - And _you _Set, are acting rather like a mindless lapdog."

The sharp intake of breath was enough to tell Seto he had hit his mark very efficiently. His lips quirked obstinately as he practically sensed the bubbling anger that erupted from the spirit. Silence secured its hold on the pair for a brief moment before Set swallowed enough of his anger to snap in response, "I am _no _lapdog - nor am I mindless _omote._"

Amusement flickered in Seto's eyes for a brief moment before the frown reclaimed its place.

"I disagree Set. You seem to have nothing more then the '_Pharaoh_' on your mind since he arrived. Not that it surprises me – it is quite clear that everyone other than him is completely ignorant and far too incompetent to come to any important decisions. How_ever_ did we survive without him?"

A measure of cruel satisfaction shone upon Seto's face when Set's eyes erupted in wild-fire. Moving quicker than Seto had ever seen him move, Set swept forwards to stoop menacingly over the elder Kaiba's chair. One faintly translucent hand planted on either arm-rest he presented his face barely a hands-breath from Seto's own.

Dark eyes inspected Seto's and seemed to cool as quickly as they had erupted, leaving only a faintly sneering trace of something Seto couldn't quite understand and yet was all-to-familiar with.

It was a look that had been bestowed on him by certain individuals in his moments of pure ruthlessness – though the most prevailing memories seemed to recall Yuugi as the bearer of the _look. _A grim smile curled upon the spirits lips and he shook his head, ruffled hair straying aimlessly closer to his eyes.

"You are just a child omote," was the sound mutter that was filled with that lack-luster tonethat was a heavy reminder of that oh-so memorable _look._

Lips curled in an attempted dismissal but any retaliation was prevented by a finger firmly pressing his lips shut.

"I think it is time you _listened _omote, before we find ourselves in a position we can't get out of. You are being petty. This grudge-game you've got going needs to stop now."

The spirit paused and inspected his others face with a frustrated shake of his head.

"You could at least _attempt_ to be civil."

Seto raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, a somewhat accusing stare lingered within half-amused blue.

"Alright... _We _can attempt to be civil."

"I'm making no promises," was the darkly muttered warning in Set's direction.

The spirits lips curled with obliging amusement and he obligingly stepped out of the way as Seto made to stand. Lips drew into a smirk of quiet triumph as blue eyes sought out and fixed warningly on their darker counterparts while stiff muscles were stretched with a barely audible groan.

With the slightly disheartening revelation that he had (once again) lost a battle with a resident of his own mind, Seto strode towards the door, his eyes focused pointedly away from the spirit who cheerfully fell into step behind him.

He moved through the hallways with the all-too hollow and fleeting consolation that there were likely to be very few people plaguing the Kitchen so early in the morning. Consolation, however, seemed to be evasive for the elder Kaiba brother that morning.

Taking the seat that was nearest to the steaming pot of Coffee that had made a permanent residence upon the Kitchen table, Seto scanned the faces of the table quickly.

A decidedly withdrawn Remus Lupin was closeted in a corner-seat hanging over a cup of tea, the eldest Weasley brother was lounging in his chair and tuning out his mothers various complaints about his lack of prospective wives and a sour looking Severus Snape was looking sharply at the wall obviously hoping that if he couldn't see _them _then they couldn't see him.

Reaching for the coffee pot he found a copy of the mornings 'Daily Prophet' tossed in his direction by the Weasley matron. Seto was sure that he wasn't imagining the sour turn her lips had taken upon his arrival.

Raising his eyes towards her with a slight frown he found her regarding him with open dislike, "I hope you're happy with yourself then."

Brown eyes fluttered with irritation towards Mrs Weasley's general direction and a sharp, "leave it Mum," was uttered almost instinctively.

Obligingly Seto unfolded the paper and was above all other things amused by the photograph focused upon the very familiar bumbling figure of Cornelius Fudge. A Cornelius Fudge that looked particularly frazzled and unrested.

A quick scan of the surrounding paragraphs was further satisfying – he hadn't known that the Wizengamot kept up the 'Muggle' tradition in involving members of the press in their court proceedings. Eyes tracing over the line-up of photographs that ran down the left side of the page Seto raised an eyebrow ever so slightly – he doubted Malik would be happy that someone had caught his Lawyer-persona on film.

His mood steadily improving, Seto amused himself with reading the juicy report and ridiculous description that had been affiliated with him. As far as he could tell they were trying to make him out to be the British-Wizarding equivalent of Jesse James. (**2**)

A grimace stole across his face as he imaginedthe looks on his employees faces if they thought their CEO had become some kind of magical gun-slinging outlaw. A further grimace followed at the thought of the look on _Mokuba's _face if he found about the article in general.

Ignoring the ripple of amusement that followed his line of thought Seto's fingers closed around his coffee cup and he set the paper aside, already planning its untimely demise in the Kitchen fire.

His mood was definitely beginning to brighten.

Thus it was that it took several moments for him to realize that he was being stared at. After a brief moments hesitation blue eyes were narrowed at the person in question.

The decidedly amused Bill Weasley raised his eyebrows marginally in response and resumed eating his toast – his eyes however, remained where they were.

Realizing that he was very near smiling Seto forced a scowl onto his face and raised his own eyebrow questioningly.

The redhead merely smirked back at him through a mouthful of toast.

Taking a consoling sip of coffee he narrowed his eyes to a sharper angle - attempting to drive away the gleaming brown eyes that seemed to have become immune to his intimidation tactics. This too, however, proved fruitless against the wizard and Seto let out a sigh of resignation.

He was all set to demand what the wizard was staring at when his jaw clamped involuntarily shut.

After a moment of subdued confusion it became apparent that the hand over his mouth belonged to Set and thoroughly unamused blue eyes turned sharply upon the spirit in protest. A hand reached up to slap the offending appendage away and blue eyes sharpened in a decidedly questioning stare.

Set obligingly gestured discretely in the direction of the doorway and Seto barely repressed a groan as he was greeted with a horrible reminder of what it was that his mission to the Ministry of Magic had accomplished.

Yuugi Mutou.

For a brief sulky moment Seto couldn't help but wonder what on earth had possessed him when he had insisted they _save _the Pharaoh. Was he really that single-minded that he had forgotten in _saving _Yuugi Mutou that he was effectively saving _Yuugi Mutou._

A shiver rode an unbidden roller coaster through his spine as his mind began to supply him with all kinds of gory unnecessary details.

He would have to _live _in the same _house _as Yuugi Mutou.

He would have to eat _breakfast _at the same _table _as Yuugi Mutou.

He would have to _see _Yuugi Mutou every – _single_ – day for who knew how long.

Set's fingers dug viciously into his shoulder, successfully making him jerk his head up in time to receive a tentative smile and a careful declaration of, "morning Kaiba-kun."

Yuugi sounded very much as though he expected Seto to explode if he was talked to without caution.

Overcome with the impression that someone, somewhere was playing a very cruel joke on him Seto fought the powerful urge to cover his eyes and hope the problem would go away and choked out a less then enthusiastic, "morning."

The King of Games seemed somewhat encouraged by this meager comment, his eyes seemed to light up and he looked very much as if he were going to speak again. Seto's eyes widened at the prospect and his hand shot out to claim the Daily Prophet in an attempt to draw a close to what could quite quickly become a very painful situation.

Finding the paper curiously absent Seto wondered darkly at the questionable sense of humor of his anonymous tormentor and began a discrete attempt to locate it.

Smug brown eyes met Seto's own and the absent paper was pointedly rustled between the red-heads fingers. A sense of overwhelming hatred towards the red-head swelled within Seto's being and mutinous blue eyes began a vicious assault in Bill's direction. Set barely repressed a surprised cough as Seto's mind drew menacing sketches of the eldest Weasley brothers future.

Eerily enough, they all seemed to involve a violent act of defenestration.

"So.. Kaiba."

Seto's eyes shot towards Yuugi with unnerving speed.

The boy seemed to pause for a moment, chewing his lip thoughtfully and glancing over Seto's shoulder at the spirit of the Rod before returning his gaze to Seto himself. Painfully over sized Amethyst eyes fixed upon him, "have there been any .. difficulties with.."

Large eyes shifted with curiosity between the pair before casting a nervous look at the rest of the table.

"They know," Seto replied shortly.

A slight tinge of pink colored Yuugi's cheeks before he harnessed in a sheepish grin. When no further answer was forthcoming Yuugi began to look doubtful again, fixing Seto with his unnatural stare.

"It must have been interesting," the King of Games tried again with a valiant smile, "with Malik and Bakura here."

Seto's fingers toyed listlessly with the handle of his coffee cup and he kept his eyes firmly averted from the unnerving stare of his rival before replying with an evasive air of indifference, "not particularly."

It was becoming quite apparent to Seto that the rest of the table had nothing better to do then stare at him. He cast a sharp look in the offending parties direction and locked eyes with a decidedly mocking near-black stare. It appeared the resident Potions Master drew comfort from the fact that someone else was suffering just as much, if not more, than he was.

"Kaiba-kun," Yuugi began again with the beginnings of irritation on his face, "there's something I wanted to ask you about."

Seto grimaced as he was jabbed rudely in already sore shoulders.

'_Honestly omote, pull yourself together. You can't be **that **intimidated by the dwarf that you can't hold a civil conversation with him_,' was the snort of amusement that rang through his mind.

Seto's entire consciousness seemed to fade out for a second and his breathing slowed for a dramatic heart-beat.

Several eyes turned in alarm towards him as a low hiss of rage managed to escape the stony wall, usually so carefully built up around him, mutiny burning in his eyes.

"_What _was that?"

Yuugi stared in the utmost bewilderment at him for a second, eyes carefully taking in the distinctly bedraggled appearance and wildness in his rivals eyes. He paused, his voice coming out in a slightly less stable tone then he would have wished, "I just said that I wanted to talk to you.."

Seto's eyes focused firmly upon the King of Games with a distinctly withering glare before rather wisely deciding to continue his assault on the spirit mentally.

'_I am not **intimidated** -_'

Set seemed rather taken aback by the wave of fury that seemed to roll off of the eldest Kaiba and took an uncertain step backwards. Seto was beginning to look remarkably like an infuriated Blue Eyes.

Yuugi looked more then slightly unnerved by the fact that Seto's eyes seemed to simmer with rage and was harboring silent doubts about the elder Kaiba's sanity.

Set's lip curled unexpectedly and he raised an eyebrow with an expression of disbelief. His voice was filled with unbridled mirth as he responded, '_I believe you are_. _Is it the fact that he can find a reason to laugh without it being at another persons expense or that he is simply_ better_ than you at something that intimidates you omote?_'

In a feat of self-restraint that surprised even himself Seto managed to keep his face neutral – And despite the uproar of indignation that swelled within him he was able to temporarily set aside the burning need to throw something_ (preferably his fist)_ right into Set's smirking face.

'_Do you enjoy provoking me Set or do you simply enjoy pain?_' Seto managed to reply even as his hands began to tremble.

Set's lips curled further and the amusement that ricocheted through Seto's mind was near unbearable. The fact that Severus Snape had lent back in his chair to watch the growing show-down with open amusement completely escaped Seto as he slowly turned upon the spirit.

'_Now now omote, no changing the subject. We're discussing_ _the flaws of your_ _personality – not mine. If anyones personality disorders need sorting out, I would hazard them to be yours._'

Seto's eyes seemed to narrow somewhat despite his attempt to keep his face neutral and he found himself stuffing his hands under the table lest anyone notice them trembling. '_I do _not _have any personality disorders. I simply can't stand his presence._'

The spirit of the Rod abruptly broke out into laughter that startled the rest of the table and made Seto disregard all thoughts of preserving dignity or self-image. His chair clattered to the floor as he made a flying leap for the spirit and rugby-tackled him to the ground with a resounding thud. (**3**)

With far-too-large amethyst eyes Yuugi watched his rival, the imposing and ruthless _'Businessman of the Year_', duke it out on the floor like he had so often seen Jounouchi and Honda do when the sacrosanct topic of Shizuka was breached.

For several moments he stared in solemn confusion down at the whirl of rage and authentic Italian Leather on the floor before Yuugi allowed the faintest of smiles to brush his lips.

'_You know, I think that's the first time I've ever seen Kaiba act like a normal human being_,' was his casual observation.

A profound moment of silence followed Yuugi's thoughts before the boy gave a slight and barely noticeable shudder.

'_It's kind of creepy isn't it._'

Atemu certainly didn't disagree. In fact, the former-Pharaoh seemed to find the sight so disturbing that he abruptly made himself known, materializing behind Yuugi's chair and casting a rather disapproving garnet stare over the pair as though the weight of his eyes alone could draw the pair out of their show-down.

Set was the first to catch sight of his Pharaoh, and managed to get out a decidedly mocking salutation of, "_Ankh Udja Seneb_!" just as he was scrambling to his feet.

Seto wasn't far behind with a decidedly harassed look to his sleep-deprived appearance. His fingers sought to soothe several of the wayward strands of hair, ignoring the snicker from Bill's direction, as he did his best to look intimidating.

Atemu looked from one to the other with a growing grimace, wondering absently how the Gods could have been so cruel as to have reincarnated the High Priest. Or even worse, to have united the Priest and his reincarnation – it was as if someone really, _truly _hated him up there.

"I wanted to talk to you Kaiba," Atemu obliged with a narrowing crimson stare that took in the slightly unorganized state of his rival and allowed a smirk as a moment of petty glee flooded his being.

Apparently Seto Kaiba _wasn_'_t_ perfection incarnate.

"So I heard," Seto replied with some of his usual cool, though he continued to shoot venomous glares in Set's direction.

Ignoring the choked sounds of laughter from Lupin's end of the table (which he was _valiantly _trying to stifle behind his mug) Atemu straightened his back and set his jaw. After several moments he inclined his head and uttered a, "good."

The courtesy was returned.

After more uncomfortable stretches of time spent staring at one another, the spirit inclined his head before hurriedly retreating back into the puzzle.

The tense silence that encompassed the room seemed to hang a spell over those within it, Lupin continued to stifle his laughter as Seto's eyes fixed with glowering fire directly onto his other half.

Thus it was that nobody happened to notice Malik Ishtar leaning in the doorway and observing with a distinctly fox-like expression of sardonic amusement upon his face. After several moments of allowing the silence to continue he finally decided to make his presence known.

"Please, continue, the suspense is nearly killing me.."

Seto whipped his head towards the doorway and grimaced at the sight of the Egyptian, wondering absently how long he had been there.

"It's rather like watching an episode of _Days of Our Lives_."

The flat tone of his voice scoured through each of the occupants of the table and Seto could hear Lupin begin choking on his tea. The Egyptian perked an eyebrow in decidedly good humor and progressed into the kitchen, noting with faint amusement, that near-identical pairs of irritated eyes followed him.

Seto reclaimed his seat and sent a silencing glare in the Egyptians direction that went sailing past unheeded. His fingers curled around the coffee pot for a refill though his eyes never truly left the form of the smirking Egyptian for a second.

When lilac eyes became misty and aloof Seto barely contained his groan.

"_Like sand through the hour glass... These are the days of our lives.._"

"_Shut it _Ishtar," Seto grumbled as he sought consolation in the lukewarm coffee in his cup.

The blond feigned innocence as he sidled up to the table and languidly swept up Bill's mug of hot chocolate from the table. With barely a flinch the Egyptian took an experimental sip of it receiving a distinctly disgusted look from Seto and an alarmed one from Yuugi.

The Egyptian grimaced and eyed the steaming liquid with a raised eyebrow before turning towards the red-head and adding a helpful, "needs sugar."

The eldest Weasley steeled himself before regarding the Egyptian with as much dignity as he could muster and grinding out, "you can put as much sugar as you want in your _own _one."

Ignoring the groan of disgust from the wizard in question the Egyptian obligingly reached for the sugar bowl.

Stirring the newly sweetened mug Malik turned to thoughtfully regard Yuugi for a moment before adding a decidedly unsettling, "morning."

Yuugi looked somewhat surprised at the warm greeting and offered a tentative smile of response. Malik bared his teeth in a grin and began to whistle jauntily to a far too familiar tune that made Seto's eyes darken ominously.

"If you keep on whistling Ishtar, Weasley there won't be the only one being defenestrated this afternoon."

Several eyes shot towards him in alarm and Seto realized with slight surprise that he hadn't voiced his threat towards the Wizard yet. Shrugging the thought off as being a temporary lapse of concentration and beginning to feel his good mood returning with the decidedly paling complexion of the red-head opposite him Seto sank back into his chair and refilled his mug with a curl of his lips.

The slightly unnerved eyes that were fixed upon him were for the present time to be ignored. Set could be dealt with in good time – after all, revenge was a dish best served _cold –_ and he had to believe that eventually Yuugi Mutou would get his come-uppance. _Nobody _could be so damned nosy for such an extended period of time and get away with it.

With an uncharacteristic flash of optimism Seto's eyes gleamed. '_After all_', he decided with some conviction, '_living with Yuugi Mutou could _not_ be worse than living with Ishtar and Bakura._'

A quick tally of the sober faces made Seto shift his back carefully against the wall, in the dim candle-light his eyes were smoldering pools of black coal racing through the tedious practice of associating names with the faces he recognized.

Nearby a shimmer of silver-white fluttered into view as the Tomb Robber repositioned himself once again, noticeably slipping into the role of the sinister and silent watcher. Bakura had maneuvered himself into a corner making his presence barely detectable. His features were obscured in unnaturally dark shadows save for a brief glimmer of scarlet or the rustle of silver when the night air brushed through the grimy shutter windows.

Atemu, on the other hand, had taken no pains to go unnoticed. He sat with regal defiance in the center of the room, arms propped boredly upon the wooden kitchen table and meeting the curious eyes of his audience with open arrogance. He was to be noticed, Seto realized with a slight frown, the Pharaoh would make _sure _he was noticed.

In comparison, the gleam of liquid gold that rebounded from the flashy jewellery at the Egyptians throat and wrists depicted an air of bored detachment. Feigning inspecting immaculately clean fingernails the blond was obviously tallying the number of wizards with much the same conclusions Seto was coming to; something important was going to happen.

At his side Mokuba shifted impatiently and stormy eyes struck Seto with a slightly narrowed expression, his mouth twisted with slight irritation and he muttered in his brothers direction, "she's staring at us again Seto."

The elder Kaiba's eyes shifted automatically between his brothers eyes to the disapproving stare they were receiving from the seated Weasley matron.

"She disapproves," Seto replied with an edge of amusement touching his voice.

Mokuba rolled his eyes in response and cast a somewhat reproving look at his older brother.

"Don't enjoy it _too _much will you Seto. She already thinks you're irresponsible enough."

An eyebrow was raised ever so slightly in an expression Mokuba was all to familiar with – it was one his brother was especially fond of.

"We have to _live _with her – thats why you should care."

The corners of Seto's lips threatened to curl upward and his other eyebrow rose up to match its companion.

"I didn't say a word."

With a slight huff the younger Kaiba puffed out his chest and attempted to deflect Mrs Weasley's disapproving looks with a sharp one of his own.

Mokuba knew that she had fought a heated battle with his older brother to try and keep him out of the meeting. He also knew that Seto had made it _very _clear that he was not her responsibility and that it was not her decision.

Lips quirking with sudden appreciation Mokuba cast a quick look of thanks in his brothers direction but found him looking towards the table with a familiar look of concentration. Deciding it best to follow suit, lest he waste the effort that had been spent in his being allowed to attend, he turned his eyes in the same direction as the background noise that had preceded the meeting began to die off and tense silence quickly enveloped the room.

Seto focused carefully upon the leader-figure that entered in the form of Albus Dumbledore, noting the slight stiffening of Atemu's shoulders with a moment of ill-disguised amusement, before following the silver-haired wizard with his eyes as he settled into a seat at the head of the table.

As soon as the wizard in question sat, the entire room seemed to fall under a spell of the utmost silence.

Clear blue eyes swept quickly over the room and a brief smile graced the mans lips, "I am glad to see so many of us here," he acknowledged, his eyes lingering briefly on the seemingly indifferent Malik for a few seconds as gold caught the candlelight in dancing flames of color.

Seto felt his lips curl sternly downwards almost of their own will.

"I trust all – security measures have been taken?" was the light murmur from the headmaster to which a curt nod was given from Mrs Weasley.

"Let us begin then, as a number of you will have noticed, there are some new faces amongst us. I assure you they are here under my insistence," a brief smile was thrown graciously in Atemu's direction and was retracted when it became apparent it wasn't appreciated.

Dumbledore seemed to pause for a moment, regarding the congregation of people before he began to speak in earnest, "the war is starting to pick up. Voldemort is beginning to strike openly and quickly – he is gaining more supporters by the day and I believe he is beginning to regain the support that he had in his old days of power. He is working quickly and without hesitation, I believe my friends, that we do not have as much time as we had hoped and what little time that we once had, is fast slipping away from us."

Crystal blue eyes briefly met Seto's own as the wizard made another sweep of the room. The elder Kaiba brother shifted his back against the wall into a more comfortable position and narrowed his eyes shrewdly, listening as carefully as had he been in a board meeting back in Domino. It struck him with sudden realization that he was involved in the affairs of these wizards..

Somehow he'd been sucked into the system.

Lips setting into a frown he cast a quick glance towards his brother to find he too was listening carefully to the Wizard in question. The faintest trace of a smile threatened his lips before he turned back to the table.

"In addition to the problems presented by Voldemort we also still face opposition from the Ministry of Magic, Cornelius is stirring up trouble that -" Dumbledore's eyes flashed in Seto's direction again and held his gaze for several moments as he spoke, "- would be best left undisturbed."

For a moment silence greeted his words, broken only by the soft sounds of a set of fingers drumming across the tabletop. Several pairs of eyes began to move towards the sound and found it to be coming from the Pharaoh himself, his eyes were sheathed from the candlelight by jagged wisps of gold and he seemed to be mulling something over within his mind.

Dumbledore's eyes fixed slowly upon him and suddenly Atemu spoke, his voice low and rich with refined care, "trouble?"

Crimson eyes danced with feigned curiosity as they lifted towards the silver-haired wizard, "you would call us trouble then, sir, though it is your kind who sought us out? Your kind who disturbed our lives."

The Pharaohs lips curved in a strange smile that Seto didn't seem to have any memory of seeing before, for some reason it was unnerving. That smile was threatening and filled with the shadows that he had seen within so many – within Ishtar and Bakura and Set and even himself – yet he had _never _seen them within the Pharaoh. The noble and righteous _Pharaoh. _

A dark chuckle of amusement escaped Atemu's lips as he shifted in his seat, the puzzle clinked on its chain, thick arm braces caught the dim light appearing beneath the thick blue of his sleeves.

Dumbledore's eyes found their way carefully towards Atemu's face, lingering carefully upon the boy who, while being so much smaller then those who surrounded him, had as much presence as Seto Kaiba had when he resided within a room.

"I don't intend to cause you any _trouble_, sir," the Pharaoh continued as a hand brushed absently over the puzzle at his chest, "as long as you present no danger to my host or my companions."

Crimson eyes were alight with a challenge that Seto found viciously familiar, boring vividly into the light gleam of crystal blue that met them with strength exceeding the body they resided within. Seto found his lips forming a tight-line as they fixed upon the wizard, ire rising as he realized that Atemu had presented himself as an unelected leader once again to their group.

"I believe I can speak for myself _Pharaoh_," was the abrupt mutter that left his mouth with sharp resignation.

Startled eyes met his own in the form of fiery crimson and a ghostly hand found its way onto Seto's shoulder. Without hesitation Set raised an eyebrow in challenge to his cousins narrowed stare and was met with a slowly forming frown and a begrudging nod of acceptance.

Dumbledore's lip curled ever so slightly and he glanced back over the crowd of Order members before taking up where he had left off. "It is vital that we begin to organize our attacks, we must prevent the loss of life at all costs. It is unfortunate, yes, that our spy was discovered," Dumbledore's eyes flickered in Snape's direction, "but we were fortunate enough not to lose a member of the order indefinitely. We will need each and every one of you before the end."

A sudden stir from near the doorway caught Seto's attention and the elder Kaiba found himself admittedly surprised by the sight that met his gaze. Even as he watched a decidedly furious Harry Potter forced himself past the group of Wizards that were attempting to convince him otherwise.

Without hesitation he strode towards the center of the room, his eyes fixed furiously upon Dumbledore and seemingly blocking out Mrs Weasley's abrupt protest of, "Harry dear, you aren't supposed to be here."

"Why shouldn't I be? This concerns me just as much as any of you," he replied with a sharp stare around at the wizards that made Seto's lips curl with amusement.

Harry's eyes fixed firmly upon Dumbledore before he spoke again, his voice shaking with a lack of control that Seto found somewhat unusual, "you said you'd need each and every one of us before the end didn't you – well what about Sirius? Don't you need him too – or have you forgotten about him already."

From somewhere nearby a sharp intake of breath signified that someone other than the boy who lived knew what he was talking about, yet Seto couldn't bring himself to look away from the wizard to see who it was.

If Seto hadn't been so confused himself, he might have found the expressions upon the gathered Wizards faces funny. As it was, Seto hated to be uninformed when in a situation as tense as the one he found himself in and the confused faces around him only furthered his irritation.

He found very little consolation when Dumbledore stared over the rims of his glasses at Harry for several moments before replying in a soft voice, "I'm afraid I don't quite understand Harry."

At this the younger Wizards eyes seemed to darken and he slapped what appeared to Seto to be a duel card down onto the table with a expression that was nothing short of indignant anger.

"Sirius isn't _dead._"

The words were spoken in an abrupt and decidedly low tone and from somewhere nearby Remus Lupin abruptly straightened out of the shadows and took a step forwards hesitantly.

Remus took in a deep breath as he put in a decidedly weak, "Harry... " before pausing as though he didn't know what else to say.

"No – I _know _he isn't dead," the boy turned on his heel and suddenly seemed to be peering into an empty corner with furious eyes, "_tell _them."

For a moment Seto thought that Harry had completely cracked, but when a brief glimmer of white shifted and a flicker of candlelight managed to filter through the unusually thick shadows of the corner the elder Kaiba caught sight of what Harry was staring at.

The Tomb Robber seemed to have been caught off-guard by the sudden amount of attention and his grip on his camouflage melted away leaving him caught within the grasps of several suddenly murderous stares.

"Tell them what you told me."

* * *

**Footnotes: **

1. What else could it be but the looming presence of school on the horizon.

2. If you seriously need me to explain, I'm thinking we have problems.

3. What can I say – _Kiwi. _Of course I'm going to reference Rugby every now and again.

* * *

**A/n: **Well, it's been a long, long, long, long.. Er, long time since I last updated. Which I suppose is mostly due to the unwelcome reappearance of school in my life again which has brought with it many unhappy complications. Despite how unnervingly pointless this chapter seemed to me, I've assured myself that it is necessary. Transmission stage. It seems somewhat off to me, comments most welcome as I'm rather unsure of it. Enough of that however, because there is only one thing left to say: because of the lack of updates I've decided to do a double update to make up for it. So, this chapter today. The next one comes tomorrow. 

**Jak'idiot: **Cheers, as for the Yami or Hikari thing.. I suppose I'll leave that up to you to try and decide. Tis more amusing that way..  
**Skycat: **Glad to hear you survived the last update wait, hopefully you've managed this one. Sorry to keep you waiting on it. Sorry to make you get all twitchy!  
**Eden's Echo: **_Last _time was a long wait? Ouch – hate to think what you thought this one was. As for the questions I hopefully shall resolve most of your questions next chapter, the ones I don't believe I shall I will try to answer now; _Upuuat_ was already roaming the room as far as I'm concerned, Bakura merely sensed him lurking about the place. I suppose in that sense that Archway is a sort of deflective force, it pushes things out of it rather then holding them in. I doubt Harry has the skills necessary to summon Upuuat but we certainly haven't seen the last of Sirius. As for how the Wizards got hold of the archway – we'll see. As for the rest – can't say a word, my lips are sealed.  
**Night-Owl123: **Cheers – shall _try _to update more quickly in the future.  
**Samuraiduck27: **A huge thank you – it's always great to hear one is appreciated.  
**Nachzes Black-Rider:** Glad to hear that the archway thing didn't go completely over peoples heads, and I finally updated so that I can maintain a claim on whining at you to update your own story. Am intrigued I tell you, I wanna know who the DADA professor is.  
**Queen of the Paperclips:** Always a pleasure getting reviews from ya.  
**Kurosaisei:** Malik is love in this fic.. I'm sure he thinks so too. Keep on enjoying.  
**Tomb Raider:** I've yet to really resolve whether Yami Marik will make his appearance in_ this_ fic, but he is definitely showing up in the 'Malik' book.  
**Chelley Angel:** I always saw Ryou as that type of person.. To be scared of something that only wants to lick 'em to death.  
**Enchantress10:** Thanks for your review, Jou will be certain to make more of an impression in the Yuugi book, but he may make another little cameo a little nearer to the end of the story. Don't worry, everyones favorite puppy hasn't been forgotten.  
**MistressKC-wanteddeadoralive:** You can't really blame Molly, she sees herself as the only motherly influence that Harry's got and so goes out of her way to look after him – though she seriously gets on my nerves. Fudge, also, has his reasons for what he does but that doesn't mean he isn't gonna get his come-uppance. Weehee.  
**CrystalStorm:** Cheers, hopefully didn't take to long to update.  
**Downtrodded:** Er.. Hopefully you didn't wait_ everyday_ .. That could have gotten rather old. Don't worry bout the cliff-hangers.. Honestly it's good for your health. Builds nice healthy arm muscles. Nothing to bulky..  
**Trisana Kara:** Yeahp.. The Pharaoh's mind is a place that_ no_ man should venture alone without parental supervision.. And as for Charlies 'fiance'e'... Proceed onwards.. Can't stop laughing..  
**QueenofGames2:** Glad to hear you enjoyed it – and what an attitude. May I solemnly swear that I truly truly love you? Anyway, thankyou, don't get_ too_ scared and proceed onwards for enlightenment.. or perhaps more cliff-hangers.. I can't quite decide yet.  
**LovingKitten:** Don't worry, Atemu's not_ quite_ done with his Dumbledore assault. Just you_ wait_ to see whats coming soon.. Lets just say that a lot of your review was_ eerily_ close to some of the latter events of the story. It was most definitely scary.. Can't wait to read your fic.. Cheers.  
**Millenium Priestess:** I'm afraid that you are 100 right about me, I have a strange and rare condition that prevents me from being normal at any given time. Just watch me, folks, just watch me. Harry's gonna get a whole lot_ more_ of Sirius to keep – at least, no wait, shouldn't have said that. Buggar it.  
**Star-Goddess Z: **Thanks.. I enjoy replying to my reviewers.. It gives me a warm tingly feeling.. Whoops, sorry, that was a lie, but I really do enjoy replying to those who take the time to review. Set still has plenty of time to prove himself – and er.. This is the very near future.. In a strange warped time zone..  
**A lilmatchgirl: **Padfoot returns.. Now lets just get Sirius to follow him. I'm glad that my Bakura isn't just plain creepy – as I am told, is often the case with my characters, at least my Rping ones anyway. It seems writers block has it in for me at the moment, but hopefully it will lay off for a while.  
**Silrayn Silverwolf: **Glad to hear – Malik is hard to get right. We never really see him just as himself..  
**Darkmouse Jumu: **Glad to hear that my delving into Ancient Egyptian mythology is appreciated, because I assure you it has only just begun. I finally used 'defenestrate' though let me tell you – it is incredibly _hard _to work that into .. well.. _any _situation. I suppose my real preference in characters shows in how I portray them.. Just _wait _until Otogi shows up..  
**Achika: **FINALLY! I was waiting for _so _bloody long.. I can't believe it. You deserve a medal I'm telling you.. You're the _only _one who got all those hints.. My _god _I thought I was going insane and that they really were too subtle.. Honestly.  
**Sadistic Introvert: **You know.. You'll kick yourself when you find out. But to prevent you from that fate I'll give you a hint, think very _very _literally about the word Dragon and our already introduced characters.  
**Musou: **Glad to hear you enjoyed the chapter, hope this one didn't disappoint. Ah yes, Zaphod Beeblebrox.. Now _thats _what I call a role-model folks.  
**Lily of the Shadow: **Ahh yes, lots of mysteries.. No explanations. Tis a trademark Cathy-Bloom story. Nah, all will be explained in good time my friend. All in good time.  
**Koriaena: **Well, the article is very strongly related to a certain someone who is bringing a certain someone to a certain place. Hope that clears things up..  
**Viva Rose: **Padfoot is presently a card.. God what am I doing to poor Sirius x.x  
**Sanjuno Shori: **Thank you, trying to keep on truckin' I _refuse _to give up on this fic, I already have it all planned. Won't give up.  
**Yuki Tsukihana: **Ahh, you took me too literally and yet – not literally enough. Kisara is, in a way, wrapped up in this just as much as Set and Seto – nope, I'm doin' it again. Can't say anymore, save that there are a _lot _of hints as to who Charlie is bringing home with him. Though most of them come in the form of jests..  
**Kyia Star: **You discovered my one true love.. Emphasizing words.. I can't live without it. I'm a bolding fiend..  
**E.TPhoneHome: **Well as of yet, no flames so you can hold onto your feather torture for a while there, though your services will come in handy I assure you. Keep on reading.  
**Destiny's Dragon: **Glad to hear, hope you keep on reading (and in doing so, reviewing). The word Wicked is possibly the coolest word in the dictionary methinks, alongside _defenestrate _and _zip.  
_**WindWitch: **Alrighty, explanation time: The part of Sirius that was within the room, _Upuuat_, was – like the other parts of him, pushed out when his body went through the veil. So really, Padfoots been hanging around the black veil for a couple of months waiting for someone to notice him. The Ministry of Magic were most definitely following them, there's just more to the equation then anybody guesses and the _person _that Charlie is bringing home is most definitely from Yu-Gi-Oh! And yes.. Otogi _is _coming soon.  
**Marduk42: **Intriguing.. Another one of those words that is fascinating to me. Hopefully you continue to enjoy.  
**Kimpatsu no Hoseki: **Hopefully this update didn't take too long.  
**Yami no Koneko: **Oh, you'll see. They have plenty of God-like wrath to unleash yet.  
**PyroKittyKat: **Erm.. update?

* * *

"_Sex is like a gun.  
You aim, you shoot (haha),  
you run_."


	19. The Meeting of the Order

**

* * *

**

Book One of Eight;

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Eighteen-**

The Meeting of the Order

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

The moments after Harry had spoken were some of the longest that Seto thought he had ever experienced.

The silence that drowned the room seemed to swallow the room in its entirety, folding in upon itself in thick sheets of black velvet and choking intensity. It was the kind of silence that signified the sweet respite before chaos unduly won and everything exploded in vivid ruin.

It was this silence that drew painstakingly across every last one of Seto's nerves, artistically working its way beneath the mask of apathy and working its nervous magic. Blue eyes roved in silent wondering between the Tomb Robber, exposed and very much a caged animal and the demanding and decidedly riled flame that was Harry Potter.

For a moment it seemed that everything came to a complete stand-still and something built angrily upon the edges, pounding and scratching its way against the walls of silence until a bitter and wretched sound suddenly tore them down.

With speed that Seto didn't think was humanly possible a blur tore through his vision. Weeks upon weeks of repressed pain clawed its way free from the well of impossible calm that always seemed to encompass Remus Lupin. Before anyone could move to restrain him he had already closed in upon Bakura, his eyes flashing with inhuman fury and shadowed with trails of unresolved grief bore down upon the Thief's own and refused to back down.

A soft thud sounded as the Tomb Robber's back hit the wall and suddenly the mild-tempered Remus Lupin seemed overwhelmingly intimidating. When he spoke his voice trembled with unrestrained rage, "what the _hell _did you tell him?"

"Remus.." was the fruitless attempt made as Dumbledore rose to his feet with ever-so-slightly widened eyes.

Whether the wizard in question didn't hear or simply ignored Dumbledore's voice wasn't certain, as he simply stooped further over the white-haired boy and hissed out, "_what _did you tell him?"

It seemed to take several moments before Bakura could pull up a semblance of himself. His somewhat dazed expression was carefully molded into a familiar sinister mask and scarlet eyes flashed in the relative dark as they fixed upon the furious wizard that had somehow gotten the better of him.

Lips curled in a dark sneer and silver hair was tossed arrogantly out of his eyes, pale hands carelessly made to brush the wizard off of him. Something of a swagger was swallowed back into his being and he stared defiantly back at the sudden onslaught of merciless gazes that fixed upon him.

Such a show was the Tomb Robber putting on that very few people noticed when the darkness was briefly illuminated in the corner, and even fewer still noticed the somber appearance of the quiet teenager who had appeared at the Tomb Robbers side. Thus it was that many of the room were startled when the boy began to speak, artfully redirecting attention off of his other half with an air of bitter experience.

"If you will not, Bakura," he spoke with a faintly reproachful stare in the Thief's direction, "then I will."

Stubbornly brown eyes rose to meet Harry's as though to steel himself before they turned upon the furious amber gaze of Remus Lupin, for some time he simply stared at the man, searching past the shedding layers of outrage and grief and horror right down to the sliver of hope that shimmered like the last pale light of dusk before night-time.

With sudden boldness the soft-spoken boy began to talk, his eyes hardening slightly as though to deflect the almost painful scrutiny of the surrounding eyes, "after entering your Ministry of Magic with the intention of freeing Yuugi, we soon discovered that Harry – who had offered himself as a guide in locating the building, had had his own reasons for going to the Ministry. He quite suddenly disappeared from our presence and we thought it to be in our best interests to look for him."

A strange half-smile graced the white-haired teens lips as he shifted against the wall, seemingly oblivious to the hard stares that refused to yield and remained sharp upon his form.

"I came across him after a short time in.. a very curious room not too far from where we had first missed him. Within the room was a very powerful artifact that was created a very long time ago – it's proper name is long forgotten, but it is known to some as one of the three _Altars of Isfet_."

A sharp intake of breath from Seto's side discerned that Set, at least, was familiar with the term and Seto found his eyes narrowing in concentration as Ryou continued to speak in the same soft tone. Blue eyes strayed only briefly to see that Malik was looking carefully detached, Atemu's face was decidedly darker than it usually was and Dumbledore himself was quietly thoughtful.

"A long time ago the Altars were created for the purposes of splitting the essences of the human spirit into their essential forms. The physical body would pass through the Altar and be collected and preserved while the spirit was essentially torn apart. The personality was split into its essential forces of light and dark and journeyed in turn to the places that the spirit had its greatest happiness or sorrow in life, the_ Ab_ or the spiritual embodiment of the heart would lodge itself within one that the soul had been closest to in life, the eternal spirit or the_ Ba_ would linger helplessly – unable to make its final journey and the _Sekhem _or power of the being which manifests as a _Ka_-monster would suddenly be released from the ties that bind it to a soul. It was for this purpose that the altars were created, to enable ones _Ka_-monster to become fully separated from a persons soul and thus enable that _Sekhem _to be commanded by another being."

Ryou found now that several eyes were staring at him in silent disbelief and others in mere confusion. He found with some relief that Harry abruptly spoke again, his eyes shimmering with nervous hope yet still dancing with that same rebellious anger.

"That altar – that thing that he's talking about. Don't you see? It's the Black Veil – that's what the Veil does. Sirius isn't _dead_. Look – I've got proof and everything.."

Harry fumbled for the card that lay discarded upon the table, ignoring the soft murmuring that had picked up amongst the wizards that bordered disbelief with faint anger. As Remus turned, his eyes caught in a nervous gleam of hope and a curious sense of revelation, Harry hurriedly thrust the piece of card towards him.

Almost gingerly Remus took the card from him with solemn eyes, every detail of the pain-stakingly beautiful creature was so terribly familiar that it made his hands tremble. Not trusting himself to words he looked from Harry towards Ryou with a nervous shiver rolling through his spine.

"That," Ryou murmured finally, "is your friends _Sekhem. _I sealed it that day in the Ministry."

For a moment words seemed to have escaped Remus entirely, his eyes softened as he stared at the card before his lips crept into a soft smile.

"Padfoot."

* * *

It was quite some time before anyone was well adjusted enough for the meeting to continue in any fashion, not soon after Harry's arrival Ron, Hermione and Ginny had made their presence known. Unbeknownst to the Order members they had been present during the entire explanation of the Altars and Molly Weasley had suddenly found herself without allies in insuring that they would be removed from the remainder of the meeting.

It was with some irritation that Molly set a freshly made pot of tea on the table, her eyes smoldering with frustration as they set upon any given member of the 'offending party.' As the woman resettled herself in her chair looking decidedly miffed Dumbledore began to redirect the agenda again, his eyes glimmering with faint thought as he nodded briefly towards Ryou.

In turn Seto's eyes turned toward the white-haired boy, Ryou's natural state of quiet having once again backed him into a corner. Brown eyes seemed all encompassing as they swallowed the expressions and emotions (or lack there-of) of the convened masses. With a slight frown Seto turned back towards Dumbledore as the man began to speak.

"We have all heard some very interesting matters tonight, which I assure you, will warrant further discussion. But for the time being I must ask us to turn our thoughts back to other matters of similar importance. Kingsley, I believe you have some information regarding the rumors of an early election?"

The wizard in question glanced up from where he had been studying his hands and gave a faint smile, "throughout the office I have heard people mentioning an early election. It seems that the public aren't the only ones who want Fudge out of office – I heard Amelia Bones herself admit that she would have Fudge removed from power as quickly as possible if it were up to her. He is getting desperate - he has doubled the number of Aurors who are attempting to locate his escapees. Following the court trial fiasco and the escape from Azkaban it seems more like an obsession, Dawlish said that he had heard him talking about a Prophecy and the need for the utmost speed. I would say he is more concerned with preserving his own image then the capture of the _real_ enemy."

The Aurors lips curled with disdain and his eyes returned to his hands, "as long as he remains in power we will have little to no support in standing against You-know-who."

Seto's eyes darkened visibly as he shifted his position against the wall, his mind swiftly evaluating his situation before he murmured in a decidedly dark murmur, "a prophecy?"

Blue eyes flickered towards Dumbledore's, ignoring the somewhat alarmed faces of the Wizards and Witches that hadn't expected him to speak.

"You seemed ever so sure that your kind was after us for our _unlawful_ use of magic," Seto's lips curled ominously, "how are we to trust that you did not know of this prophecy?"

The shifting of chestnut hair caught the candlelight as Seto once again readjusted himself so that he faced the wizard in question, making Kingsley Shacklebot's eyes widen somewhat in surprise. "How much do you knowof this _prophecy_?"

Instead of the degree of fear that Kingsley had expected to find in Seto's eyes he found a curious gleam of shadow that was decidedly unnerving. His lips had formed a sharp and mocking smirk that made the Auror uneasy.

"I only _know _that whatever it was about, its making Fudge nervous and all-too-eager to have _you _and your friends under his control."

Seto's lip quirked upwards.

"Control?"

Mokuba reached out a hand to brush his brothers arm, unnerved that he could almost _feel _the scathing laughter that hung upon the elder Kaiba's lips, threatening to spill forth at any moment.

"He believes – that over-stuffed foolbelieves that he can _control _me?"

A glimpse of the mocking laughter in Seto's eyes was enough for Set to grimace and turn his head towards him. The spirit opened his mouth to interrupt what was looking to become another of his other half's destiny rants but found himself beaten to the punch – this time by a well-placed jab of, "reign in your ego before it suffocates us all Kaiba."

Seto's eyes narrowed somewhat in the Egyptians direction and he found himself greeted with a wry smirk.

"Watch your mouth Ishtar," the elder Kaiba murmured with a dangerous gleam entering his eyes.

Mokuba's hand clenched down upon his brothers arm and a slightly narrowed slate-blue stare fixed upon Seto's face and remained there – an anchoring point should Seto need it.

Malik smiled widely in response and stretched out his fingers with a resounding cracking of knuckles that made Mrs Weasley flinch in her seat. "Honestly Kaiba – I think you need to get a new line. Even the _Pharaoh _is scarier then you are."

While Atemu had the decency to look affronted, Seto was looking positively murderous.

With a sharp glare in the Egyptians direction Atemu turned in his seat, briefly pausing to ensure that Malik did not miss his stare before moving it onto Seto himself. All the fluid arrogance and grace that had transcended years of isolation within a gaudy prison seemed to fill the being of the Spirit of the Puzzle at that moment and for a moment he seemed as god-like as his position in life had created him to be.

"I suggest you get to your point Kaiba," he spoke aloud, mostly for ceremony as it was his stare that was doing all of the true communication.

For a moment Seto felt a spark of rebellion rise up in his chest, goading him to ignore his rivals carefully placed warning (threat?) and see how long he could go before the Pharaoh lost his composure completely. A stubborn hand however dug into the skin on his arm, joined by another planting itself firmly upon his shoulder and the ghostly imprint of words lingered in the fore-front of his mind, '_you could at least attempt to be civil.'_ Biting back the overload of pride that cried out woefully at his concession and narrowing blue eyes upon the almost pleading crimson stare that sought out his own he inclined his head with a grim twist of his lips, "as you wish, my _Pharaoh._"

Set's lips curled with mirth at the grimace that touched Atemu's face and Mokuba breathed a soft sigh of relief as Seto's eyes lifted to fix directly upon Dumbledore's face.

"The _point _that I was getting to," he spoke up with a conceding nod in Atemu's direction that caused a further wince and a wider smirk from Set, "is that while within the Ministry I came across a very interesting room of my own."

Comprehension glittered in Set's eyes and he turned his full attention upon Dumbledore as well as Seto continued with a slightly sharper edge to his voice.

"Within this room I found a very interesting collection of photographs that must have dated back for at least twelve years. Twelve years worth of photographs, posters, news articles.. I don't imagine you could hazard a guess at what they were of.. Could you?"

Blue eyes bore mercilessly into lighter counterparts, meeting the deceptively strong stare head on as he made a brief pause, though the question was evidently not meant to be answered.

"What I found, within the midst of your Ministry of Magic was a collection of photographs of nearly everybody that I have _ever _interacted with. Tell me, would you, _why _would your Ministry of Magic be following me – documenting every single person that I have ever _met _in my life, twelve _years _before I ever knew anything of magic. Twelve _years _before I had ever encountered anything to do with magic of any kind?"

The challenge lit like a flame in his eyes burnt vividly as he continued to stare Dumbledore in the eyes, his voice taking on a strangely compelling power as he continued to speak.

"_Why _is it that we find _you _within the very group of people who sought to condemn us – and yet you would have us trust that you are saving our lives by keeping us here? _Why _is it that the mentioning of this _prophecy _failed to catch your interest, although you have never mentioned it to anyone of us?"

Dumbledore's light eyes fixed firmly upon Seto, refusing to back down even the slightest as he finally murmured aloud, "what is it that you would have me tell you Mister Kaiba?"

Seto's eyes seemed to darken as he made to answer, his voice dripping with open disdain as he straightened his posture, "I would have you tell me what it is that you have been keeping secret from us. I would have you tell us why we are _really _here."

For a moment the elderly wizard remained silent, aged eyes fixed still upon the openly hostile stare that Seto maintained before his lips curled in silent acquiescence. "Alright Mister Kaiba, I think it is time that you heard what it is that I have learned since your arrival."

The elderly wizard shifted in his chair, his wisened face softening into lines of contemplation as his fingers threaded through one another and came to a rest upon the wooden table. His eyes swept over the room once, as though to gage the feelings of the room and fixing briefly upon the intensely curious face of Harry Potter, before he sighed and began to speak.

"Since we first spoke Mister Kaiba, I have taken it upon myself to learn something more of why it is that Cornelius was so eager to have you in his grasps. At first I truly believed he was merely looking for an easy way out of an election, I believed he sought to buy votes by triumphing over some terrible threatening evil so that the community would forget about his blind foolishness in the past. Upon further inspection however, it quickly became apparent that it wasn't quite so crystal cut."

For a moment the elderly wizard paused, casting his eyes once again over the group before continuing, "I first heard the rumors of a Prophecy whilst involved in the trial of the only member of your group that Fudge managed to imprison. I overheard a conversation between Cornelius and his junior Assistant concerning the blood-line of the accused. It appeared that the boy was a descendant of a rather renowned Seer, who had foretold a rather strange fate before her death. This Seer however had been slandered upon her death – it was said that she was of Gypsy blood and thus unreliable." (**1**)

Dumbledore's eyes flickered over the group who were now unnervingly silent, listening carefully to his words with appropriately distanced expressions.

"From what Cornelius said it appeared that the prophecy had been rediscovered around fifteen years ago by peculiar chance. Not long after this I received reports from one of my informants of several Bounty Hunters that had been hired by Cornelius to apprehend you, Mister Kaiba, along with your companions. Apparently, they too spoke of a prophecy while questioning within the area. But now more then ever, they were talking about a dragon and a king."

Lips quirked in a strange fashion as the wizards words sunk into his mind for further contemplation. Seto's eyes narrowed further as they focused in upon Dumbledore's face, carefully searching for any trace of deception.

"It was then that I heard some rather startling news that seemed to make all of what I had heard previously seem all the more relevant. By a stroke of luck, Kingsley here, overheard Cornelius once again in discussion with several foreign delegates from other Ministries. It appeared that this particular prophecy had been under intense scrutiny for some time and that after a stroke of luck, they had managed to decipher it – at least in part, to relate to an Ancient myth of the Egyptians."(**2**)

"I believe, Mister Kaiba, that you have been under watch for many _many _years by your own local Ministry of Magic, you and your friends. I am not sure why, or how, but they have targeted you as one of the major factors within this prophecy and have obviously seen some cause for alarm. I am not aware of the full extent of the prophecy, nor am I certain of whether you are truly the one that it speaks of. All that I know is that some sign has been given and that Cornelius will spare no expense to ensure you are imprisoned for life."

The pause was only brief this time, before suddenly a slightly hesitant voice murmured out, "but – if they are unsure of who the people in the prophecy are – then.. I mean. They can't just lock somebody up because of some prophecy that nobody even seems to know all that much about can they? I mean.. They have no _evidence_."

Seto's eyes turned towards the slightly uncomfortable looking Hermione, whose skeptic tone had caught more then a few glances from those around her. He found his lips quirking amusement and he cast a deliberately smug glance in Set's direction as though to prove that he wasn't the only one who didn't buy into prophecies and destiny.

Albus' eyes glittered with good humor and he chuckled softly to himself, offering a smile in Hermione's direction before he deigned to reply, "all the more reason for the false charges wouldn't you say Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes widened slightly in realization and her face seemed to close off as though she had slipped back into thought. At her side Ron seemed to be concentrating so hard it was almost painful to watch.

Nearly everyone jumped when a decidedly dark and rich voice interrupted abruptly, "perhaps it would be wise for us to seek out this prophecy and take it from them. Then, perhaps, we might know what we are dealing with – rather than vague generalizations."

Several eyes turned towards the decidedly agitated form of Atemu, who was once again drumming his fingertips across the table-top. Vivid crimson eyes were fixed with burning intensity upon Dumbledore as though seeking out some hidden agenda behind the wisened face and crystal eyes.

"I am afraid that is impossible," the wizard replied with the beginnings of a frown about his eyes.

"I would not deem it so," Atemu contended sharply, "my companions infiltrated your Ministry easily enough once before. I believe we could do it again."

Dumbledore's eyes glittered darkly and he shook his head slightly, silver hair catching the candle-light as he moved in his chair. The silk of his cloak whispered as he adjusted himself in his chair to fix his eyes ever more firmly upon the Pharaoh himself.

"To remove a prophecy from its storage, you must either be named as one who it concerns or be the Seer whom it was seen by – unless of course you are of the authority to manage the prophecies themselves. Even still, if you could remove the prophecy from its storage you would be unable. For I am afraid that it is no longer there."

Atemu's eyes seemed to sharpen even more so as he leaned toward the table, his gaze almost hypnotic as it refused to relinquish its hold upon the wizard. He seemed to make as if to speak again, but was swiftly interrupted by a much less diplomatic voice from further down the table.

"How do you know?"

Seto's lips curled in spite of himself at the brash and decidedly rude tone that the Egyptian didn't bother to conceal, it appeared that something that had been said had severely concerned the boy and he no longer appeared as collected as he had earlier.

Surprisingly it was Kingsley that spoke in reply to Malik's question, "it was realized in the aftermath of the invasion of the Ministry of Magic at the end of last year, that several prophecies – having been knocked from their correct positions – had been taken by Death Eaters back to their Lord, in the hopes that one would prove useful to them. The prophecy that we spoke of is one of them."

Dead silence collected following those words and suddenly it seemed that nobody knew quite what to say. Malik looked distinctly troubled now, his eyes seemed to have fallen behind a dark shadow that blocked everyone else out.

A moody silence had overtaken the group now that their questions had been answered, Seto was staring at the moving shadows on the wall opposite him with the faintest of frowns on his face. Mokuba was in turn, staring at his older brother with open concern, unknowingly mirroring the similar expression upon Set's own face.

Atemu had fallen into contemplative silence as he sat, now resting his chin upon his hands and staring moodily into the flames of one of the candles. Ryou seemed to have retreated even further into the shadows, another screen of darkness having lifted around the white-haired boy as he fell into deeper thought.

Albus Dumbledore explored the expressions of the collected group with as much care as he could, his light eyes keenly observant despite the steadily darkening room. Already one candle had died out as they spoke. With a resolute frown the Headmaster of Hogwarts suddenly shifted again in his chair and began to speak once again.

"That is all that I have managed to gain in information on the matter I am afraid. I will not hesitate to inform you if any developments are made known to me, in the mean time I believe that this meeting is drawing to a close and we must deal with still more pressing matters before it does so. Severus?"

The man in question seemed to jerk with surprise, eliciting a faint murmur of amusement from several of the younger members of the group. He cast a sharp, penetrating dark glare in the offending direction before nodding curtly in Dumbledore's direction to acknowledge that he had heard.

"Am I right in assuming that you still wish to go through with this – stake out of this Death Eater attack? You do not need me to remind you that it will be particularly hazardous for you in particular, should you be caught?"

Snape's lip curled absently and a strange gleam seemed to catch his eyes, "I am fully aware of the consequences should I fail."

For a moment Dumbledore's eyes lingered upon the potions master before shaking his head with a resigned sigh, "very well. Are there any volunteers who wish to assist Severus? – I will warn you now that it will not be a pleasant mission and it will place any who go in great danger."

A contemplative silence fell over the group, so deeply fixed within themselves that the next voice to speak was made all the more surprising. Wide eyes turned towards Seto as his eyes narrowed sharply and he raised an eyebrow – challenging anyone to move against him. To Seto's surprise it was the person standing at his side that made the first noise of protest, furious stormy eyes turned upon him and his brothers was upon him like a thunderclap.

"I _won't _let you leave me all alone again Seto. I _need _you 'nii-sama, when will you see that?"

Seto turned towards his brother with a softened expression, though his eyes did not yield. A conversation that seemed to require no words passed between the brothers as they stared at one another before another voice, rich and somewhat less focused then usual spoke up, "if Kaiba will go, then so will I."

Several faces turned towards the Pharaoh as he shifted his stare towards Mokuba with a faint smile lingering on his face, for a moment the younger Kaiba thought he saw a glimpse of Yuugi rather than the Pharaoh as a subtle wink flashed at him. Mokuba seemed to take some comfort from the declaration though Seto himself appeared less than thrilled. Snape had assumed the safe expression of apathy, though he seemed relatively pleased that Remus hadn't volunteered himself right off the mark.

Even as time drew on there was a sudden addition, several eyes shot in horror towards the eldest Weasley brother as he calmly pledged himself to the mission. He studiously ignored the sharp intake of breath from his mothers direction and steeled himself for the protest that followed like clock work.

"Bill Weasley! How could you even _think _-"

The interruption to the protest hit with perfect timing, just as it was expected to and Bill's lips quirked upwards at the sheer normalcy of it all, "it is his decision Molly, you cannot protect them forever."

"_Arthur!_ -"

Molly Weasley was quelled in her argument, however, as another distinctly gruff voice declared that he too would go. Seto's eyes shot towards the source with curiosity, inspecting the gnarled wretch of a man that was nodding with somewhat of a grimace in Arthur Weasley's direction.

Dumbledore found his lips curling in spite of himself and nodded towards Snape abruptly, "that should be enough shouldn't it Severus?"

A curt nod of response was given as the Potions Master seemed to be otherwise distracted in his thoughts. Bill's announcement had given him cause to suspect that the eldest Weasley brothers major aspiration in life was to make his life steadily more miserable by the day.

Dumbledore's lips twitched as he fought to suppress a smile before he turned his stare in turn upon the decidedly broody Remus Lupin. He felt strangely as if the meeting had gone on for far too long already. "I believe you require several volunteers, Remus, to assist you in following Mister Malfoy's movements?"

Ambers eyes shot up in horror, seeking to protest before the subject could be further discussed but found himself cut off when the elder wizard quickly continued, "good. Are there any volunteers?"

Almost immediately Ryou's soft voice spoke up, seemingly the white-haired boy had no qualms about volunteering the Tomb Robber's prolific skills for a good cause. Whether the Tomb Robber felt quite the same was highly debatable.

His pledge was followed by a soft groan from the general direction of the table where the blond Egyptian had sufficiently roused himself from his thoughts to have heard Ryou's declaration. With a visible grimace and a decidedly elaborate roll of his eyes he spoke in a long-suffering tone, "I suppose that I shall have to go as well now – to ensure that the Tomb Robber doesn't make Monopoly pieces of you all."(**3**)

The attempt at humor far from convinced anyone that the Egyptian was unbothered by what had been discussed, and having said his part he almost immediately slipped back into his strange distanced stare of mind.

Remus looked ready to attempt to stop any further volunteering but was cut off when a decidedly cheerful voice (that sounded to Remus like a harbinger of doom) declared, "count me in – wouldn't want you to get bored Lupin."

Many faces paled at the prospect of Tonks (whose clumsiness was fast becoming legend) taking on such a delicate task, but none seemed willing to speak up against it. Remus' mind kicked into overdrive as he sough a polite refusal but was quickly thwarted when once again, Dumbledore took control.

"That should be enough then. Are there any further topics that require our attention tonight?"

Crystal blue eyes swept over the group quickly, halting for only a few moments before he nodded his head and concluded cheerfully, "then I declare this meeting of the Order of the Phoenix over. You are all free to leave – Harry – I would have a word with you before you leave."

The dismissed wizards began to disperse as Seto detached himself from the wall with the faintest trace of a grimace tugging at his lips. Waiting until the majority of the crowd had left the kitchen Seto followed with the full intention of seeking only sleep. The lack of it the previous night seemed to be catching up on him.

Winding his way up the staircase and finding his bed, Seto found himself abruptly faced with the decidedly indignant face of his younger brother.

For a moment Seto wondered what he had done before grimacing visibly as the assault began.

"I can't believe you did that 'nii-sama! If you get hurt – even the_ tiniest_ bit – I swear I will_ never, ever_ talk to you again."

Able to pick his way passed the childish empty threat, Seto was quickly able to discern the true fear that fueled his brothers panic and was threatening to overthrow the entirety of his common sense. Looking to placate him quickly before the fear could take a hold, Set carefully fixed his brother with a curiously earnest stare.

"I promised that I would never leave you Mokuba, ever, and I intend to hold to that promise until the day you regret it even existed. Alright kid? You're not getting rid of me quite so easily."

With lips curling into a decidedly warped smile the elder Kaiba tousled his younger brothers hair for good measure. The resulting faint scowl caused Seto's lips to curl further, irritation having quickly replaced any misgivings the younger Kaiba may have still had.

"Besides," the younger Kaiba spoke up abruptly as he made for his own bed, casting an enigmatically amused half-smile over his shoulder, "Yuugi will be there to save your ass anyway."

A pillow sailed with dead-accuracy through the air to connect with a thump with the back of the younger Kaiba's head.

"Don't push your luck kid."

* * *

Despite the inherent lack of sleep that plagued his mind, Seto could not seem to escape from the faint niggles of the day he had left behind. The meeting of the Order weighed heavily upon his mind, bringing with it the sharp knowledge that he had booked himself into an openly dangerous situation with his arch-rival and two relatively unknown wizards.

Perhaps Mokuba hadn't been so far off in his outrage at Seto's decision.

A quick glance in the shadowed corner of the room that his brother currently slumbered in made Seto's lips curl, in sleep the younger Kaiba could fool anyone into believing he was just an average innocent child. Finding a semblance of peace in watching his brothers undisturbed sleep Seto adjusted his back against the wall and fell back into thought, well aware of the vague presence that was over-seeing his thoughts even in its withdrawn state.

Seto was decidedly unsettled by what he had learned from Dumbledore, perhaps even more so than the fact that the wisened Headmaster had kept so very much from them. After all, Seto would be the first to admit that he was quite out of his depth when talk turned to prophecies and destiny and Seer's – he had made it his practice to solemnly dispute anything that bordered on the realm of mystic. He was a man in charge of his own destiny.

Sensing the laughter from the spirit he found himself scowling into the night and preparing to thoroughly ignore any jests sent his way.

It seemed that just as Set was moving to make his assault that the noises downstairs began.

The sound of a door being closed none-to-carefully was followed by a now familiar carol of wailing and screeching from the inhospitable portrait of the Houses former Mistress. Quickly followed by hushed voices that sought to quell the screeching that suddenly became not so hushed voices.

Intrigued Seto sat up in spite of himself, listening carefully as he heard Mrs Weasley's excited voice rise through the floorboards in greeting before dead silence struck.

For a moment Seto thought his hearing had been blocked and he frowned slightly before their was a shriek that the elder Kaiba thought he should never wish to hear again in his life. It seemed a mixture of intense disappointment teamed with surprise and the utmost _fury. _

The sounds of footsteps on the stair heralded the arrival of another source and Seto found his door being flung open even as he rose from his bed. He raised an eyebrow at the strangely _gleeful _expression that had taken hold of the Egyptian's face and sought to read something more useful from his expression before meeting a decidedly amused lavender stare.

"I suggest you hurry Kaiba – believe me when I say you do _not _want to miss this.."(**4**)

* * *

**Footnotes: **

**1. **Thus begins the reasoning for Otogi's involvement within the story, while it will be further explained I will simply explain why I chose Otogi over others for this particular role. For one, we are given very little in the way of back-story or family history for Otogi. Two, he seemed the most likely option to be associated with magic other then the item holders. That and he always seemed slightly Gyspy-ish to me..  
**2. **If anyone wishes to take a stab in the dark at what particular myth they think I might be possibly referring to, go for it. I give only the clue that it ties in dashingly well with Atemu and Set's (and in turn Seto and Yuugi's) continued rivalry – though in the story it is more like war-fare.  
**3. **Personally I don't believe that Malik is the kind of person who would play Monopoly, but then again, he was in for the whole world domination so perhaps the prospect of power would be a factor in Monopoly's favor..

**4. **Ah, our new house-guest has arrived. Final guesses on just who Charlie has brought home with him who could create just such a stir anyone?

* * *

**AN: **As promised, the second chapter is here – though slightly over-due. Ah well, you can hardly complain, it's not like it's been two months or anything.. Anyway, some explanations have been made and some holes have been purposefully left to continue to aggravate you. Hopefully the next chapter won't take too much prompting to get out there – in the meantime have patience. Theres a decidedly bold character that is refusing to stay repressed for too long. Hope you enjoyed.

**LovingKitten: **Ah, unfortunately it isn't exams for me that has been holding me up. Rather, a decidedly indecisive art teacher who has pushed me beyond the bounds of frustration in the process of one term and a slave-driving English teacher who seems intent on having me six feet under before we even _near _exam-time.  
**Skycat:** Argh! Don't tell me I've caused a remission! Hopefully the quick update shall soothe the symptoms somewhat.  
**Downtrodded: **Yeahp, poor old Sirius. I doubt he'll ever be the same again.. But then again. Kaiba seemed to recover from _his _card ordeal with ego in tact. I have high hopes for our Mister Black.  
**Eden's Echo: **I would most definitely say Seto and Set have issues to resolve, as do Seto and Yuugi, though I think Seto and Yuugi are never going to be buddies. Harry is definitely having some issues with his temper, which is kind of understandable with all that he's been through yet he seems to be turning into quite the little drama queen – I can't tell you how _crazy _it made me when I first read OotP – he seemed so damn _angry. _Bill and the others, at first, were just laughing about Seto's appearance until Yuugi entered. The activities of Kaiba Corp are kind of low key so far, Seto has been slightly neglecting his poor company. He is, for the most part communicating with his head office through email and seeking to resolve any problems that way though he hasn't done quite as much as he possible should have done. Well, it definitely isn't July – but don't worry. I'll make sure to have the next one out by then..  
**Praceps: **It was, technically, a pointless chapter, though I will maintain that it _was _necessary. If at least for my sanity it was necessary. I needed to get a few of those initial conflicts between Seto and Yuugi and in turn Seto and Set out of the way so that future events aren't laden down with them.. So I suppose in a way it was useful to the plot. Glad to hear that it wasn't as terrible as I'd thought, perhaps my mind is foggier than I thought. Oh well, hope you enjoyed this one just as much.  
**Nachzes Black-Rider: **Ooh, I know who it is! Interesting choice, I wonder how Ginny would handle being set homework by her favorite brother and Ron come to mention it. _Very _interesting. Now I wanna read your next chapter! Curse your writers block..  
**Yuki Tsukihana: **Haha, the mystery guest has _arrived _but has not yet been introduced. Ooh you're getting closer and closer. In fact, you _may _have guessed correctly.. But nope, lips are sealed. Bill most likely won't be tempting fate when dealing with Kaiba for a while at least – not if he values his life that is.  
**Samuraiduck27: **Ahh we have a sympathetic soul at last! Someone sees the torment that poor Seto is going through with all of those people allied to make his life a living hell.. Poor boy deserves at least one ally.  
**Koriaena: **Glad to hear I was of some help to you. Always happy to lend a helping hand when one needs it.  
**Chelley Angel: **It is a good word isn't it.. Poor Bakura, he's just far too sure of himself to be allowed. He needs taking down a peg or two every now and again.. Happy to do it of course. Anything for the cause..  
**mistressKC-wanteddeadoralive: **I believe the death toll stands at six and the souls damned to eternal torment at one. Though I expect that to rise any chapter now. He rather needs a good session of Anger Management..  
**Curtis Zidane Ziraa: **Ah, the wizards are always trying to protect their precious little hero but it seldom works. You'd think they'd have realized by now..  
**Kyia Star: **_Funny _you should mention Otogi.. Ah, better not to say methinks.  
**Crystalstorm: **I suppose that Atemu will take a while to wear down, he's slightly more tolerant then the rest of YGO-cast so I suspect he might even grow to _respect _Dumbledore. After all, the old buggar isn't really _that _bad..  
**AnyTimeAnyPlaceKS: **Good to hear – not to much of a wait this time.  
**Sanjuno Shori: **It's always fun to have Harry finally stick up for himself and I shall continue my quest. Considering I've got the entire story-line mapped out it would be madness to give up now.  
**A lilmatchgirl: **More than happy to oblige with the quick update this time. I think Harry caught Bakura off guard and took full advantage of it. Its a very good thing that Ryou is always there to clean up Bakura's messes – because I doubt even the renowned King of Thieves could have wormed his way out of the way of a waxing-Werewolf on a rampage. As for Otogi – he'll be here sooner then you think.. I'll just leave it at that methinks..  
**Musou: **Glad to hear that you enjoyed the chapter.. Even if it was rather late. I shall remain decidedly grateful that I have not seen the flash movie you mentioned – naked Dumbledore is _far _too disturbing to even comprehend. I certainly don't remember _my _Maths homework ever sounding quite so appealing.. I find myself overwhelmingly jealous..

* * *

"_I'll have you hung, drawn, and quartered! And whipped! And boiled.. Until.. Until.. Until you've had enough. And then - I will do it again! And when I've finished I will take all the little bits, and I will JUMP on them! And I will carry on jumping on them until I get blisters, or I can think of anything even more unpleasant to do._" 


	20. Battles Won and Lost

**

* * *

**

Book One of Eight;

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Nineteen**-  
Battles Won and Lost.

* * *

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

It was hard to say which of the pair was more surprised.

For a moment in time Seto Kaiba seemed to completely forget his surroundings – from the decidedly amused Malik Ishtar only steps behind, to the mish-mash gathering of Wizards and Witches clustered in the entrance hall. He found his face stripped of the infallible mask of disinterest that was his trademark, he _felt _his eyes widen and he _knew_ that the strange jerking motion that had drawn him to a halt definitely did _not _contribute to an air of indifference.

His lips quivered in a truly abominable fashion as though determined to betray his shock further and if it weren't for the words that sounded with far too much amusement through his mind, he might just have allowed that pitiable yelp that had been gathering in his throat to escape.

'_I believe the phrase you are looking for omote,_' was the smug murmur that wrenched him from his startled state, '_is, What the.._'(**1**)

Whatever it was that the spirit of the Rod had been intending on saying was lost as the daze left Seto completely and his usual order snapped into place. Like a flood-gate snapping shut his face closed off into his familiar expression of essential disinterest, his eyes focused acutely upon the cause of his surprise and his lips quirked into a decidedly odd half-smirk. Straightening his bearing with a throw-back of his shoulders and marginal elevation of his chin he focused upon regaining a semblance of composure before he had to speak.

All of his effort however, was thrown out of the window the moment that Ryuuji Otogi seemed to snap out of his own state of confusion.

Startlingly green eyes flared with furious indignation, noticeably tangled dark hair was thrown tempestuously from the game creators line of vision and a lithe and slender body seemed to take on the raw power of a full-blown hurricane.

A gush of warm air rushed past Seto's neck in the wake of a soft snort and a dryly amused noise that made the elder Kaiba turn his head sharply. The culprit – in the form of a decidedly amused (and _obviously _enjoying himself) Egyptian raised an eyebrow precariously before obviously deciding to let him in on the joke.

"A dragon indeed."

For a moment Seto reconsidered everything he knew about the forces of fate and destiny. He reconsidered his evaluation of higher powers and the havoc that had become of his life and then – he snorted.

Choking back the suddenly terrible urge to simply _laugh _at the sheer irony of his situation he found himself quite unable to control the twitch of his eyebrow or the strange glimmer that threatened to set his stony eyes alight.

This was all simply _far _too coincidental for his liking – and if he had been anyone else, Seto Kaiba might just have renounced his stern disbelief of fate then and there. But the simple fact was that he was _not _anyone else – he was Seto _Kaiba_ - and Fate quite frankly didn't have a snowballs chance in hell.

And so with the uncanny ability that he possessed to ignore the pointing fingers of Fate, Seto locked eyes with the internally raging Ryuuji Otogi and offered the devil's very best of infuriating smirks.

"What kept you?"

For a moment the very air between them seemed to crack with electricity and green eyes flashed within moments from anger to rage to fury before suddenly dismissing all three in favor of something far more sinister. A glittering sensation of _something _laced its way through emerald depths and all conversation dwindled to a low throbbing hum in the back of Seto's consciousness.

A formerly scowling mouth wrenched abruptly into a twisted mockery of Seto's own expression and a somewhat roughened shadow-drenched tone suddenly cut through the air, "I had trouble finding suitable accommodation."

One dark eyebrow danced upwards elegantly and green eyes glittered darkly before he abruptly moved forwards and Seto's lip quirked further upwards. He felt Set's presence filter into visibility at his side and cast a half-glance in the spirits direction as an arm draped over one shoulder. The spirits own dark eyes were fixed with curiosity upon the moving form of the game-creator.

Blue eyes turned onwards to Malik, whose own eyes were rounded in a puzzled state as they followed Otogi's purposeful strut toward the brightest center of the room.

'_Is it just me.._' Seto found himself muttering uncertainly through his mind towards the Spirit of the Rod, '_or does he seem slightly.. off?_'

Ryuuji Otogi had always been the kind of person that people stopped to watch. He moved with that unearthly sense of grace and poise that seldom few were gifted with – it was a mixture of power and undeniable grace that was mesmerizing to watch. But at that moment in time there was some other force undoubtedly at work within the Game Creator – that carefully melded twist of his lips was of distaste and a haunted flickering of familiarity.

Seto narrowed his eyes slightly, took a deep breath to still any remaining threats of laughter and turned his attention to the rest of the hallway in an attempt to gage his surroundings.

It was something of a surprise to the elder Kaiba to see the level of chaos that had enveloped the small entrance hall and he wondered absently how he could have possibly missed the flurry of action that was taking place.

At the base of the stairs Molly Weasley had sunk in a state of obvious distress and was casting an obviously unhappy stare at an unfamiliar (yet _undoubtedly a _Weasley) Wizard who was cradling one of his pockets gingerly and patting her shoulder awkwardly with his spare hand. Seto faintly registered that the Wizard had a distinctly shifty look to his eyes and continued to look down at the pocket he was shepherding so carefully.

Tugging violently at the moth-eaten drapes that usually covered the line of hostile portraits within the hallway were Remus Lupin and Bill Weasley who seemed to be fighting a losing battle. Seto watched with faint amusement as the portrait of the Former-Mistress of the House began to screech viciously at the pair who sought to silence her.

"_Half-breed scum!_"

Remus tugged with new vigor at the crushed velvet curtain as his eyes began to blaze.

"_Polluting the shades of the noble house of Black, _-" the portraits mad rolling eyes fixed upon Remus with distaste as he finally drew his wand and brandished it viciously in the portraits direction.

Bill Weasley backed off in surprise as the usually placid-natured older Wizard wheeled upon the portrait and began to wave his wand threateningly at the portraits surface. His eyes caught the light in eerie brilliancy and a dark and wretched turn of his lips turned his demeanor dark. For a moment grief gleamed in his eyes in its full fury – a black beast that had wrapped itself around him and dug its barbed wires deep into his very soul.

The portrait, to her credit, seemed to pause upon this sudden unexpected action before sneering vividly down at him and hissing, "_mutants! Freaks! Vile off-casts of dirt and filth. How dare you -_"

With a sudden roar the werewolf snapped completely, brandishing his wand forwards and ignoring the utter surprise on the face of Bill Weasley he snarled, "so help me if I don't burn you off that wall you wretched old hag."

There was a gasp of surprise – then outrage from Mrs Weasley as a trail of flames suddenly erupted from the werewolf's wand and began to climb their way across the surface of the portrait hungrily. Mrs Black let out a horrified shriek and fled away from her portrait cursing them even as she escaped.

"Remus! What on earth has gotten into you – put that _out!_"

The Weasley matron brushed away the nervous attention of the red-head at the base of the stares and rushed towards the portrait with an expression of the utmost horror upon her face as the fire began to blaze and readily consumed the elaborate framing. Her automatic impulse to put out the flames however were quite suddenly abandoned – and all because of the sudden and unexpected sound that suddenly interrupted the chaos of the entrance hall and left it in dead silence.

All eyes seemed drawn magnetically towards Otogi Ryuuji as he cast a magnificently dark smirk around the room and brought his hands together once again in applause. His eyes lingering appreciatively on the suddenly stationary form of Remus Lupin.

It hit Seto like a wave – the sense and sight and feel of the presence that had swallowed Otogi and consumed him in everything save form. He found himself reaching for his forehead with a grimace as a throbbing confusion hit his head and slunk through it – the vague impression of aristocratic features and striking blue-gray eyes that were reminiscent of a storm-tossed sea.

It was powerful – the feeling of _need _and desperation that leaked from the unknown spirit and released itself over him, _through_ him until he felt his head spin and his stomach roll. An arm – far too solid for the form that it was housed in – caught and braced his shoulders and for once Seto was grateful for Set's insight.

"Well well Moony," came the starkly amused voice that filtered through Otogi's accented tongue and was overshadowed by traces of an Irish lilt, "if that is the result then perhaps I should die more often."

The werewolf turned a dozen shades of pale as his entire being stiffened in surprise.

A sharp barking laugh erupted from the form – sounding entirely foreign to the Game Creators tongue – and his lips curved in an odd half-smile.

"My but it is good to be home."

Silence swelled within the room as the possessed Otogi smiled darkly and cast his eyes over the walls with sickened nostalgia, "I never thought that I would be glad to see these walls again," was the quiet murmur that rumbled from his lips, so quiet that it was barely discernible.

"Sirius?"

The whisper was so soft that it was truly a wonder that anyone had heard it – Lupin's eyes were filled with hope-stricken disbelief and he took a step closer to the strange form.

For a moment the impression of the spirit exploded within Seto's mind before escaping and dwindling in wisps away as its strength drained away and drew back into Otogi's being.

It took a while for the dazed Game Creator to reclaim any semblance of self and when he did he seemed worn down with exhaustion and decidedly strained. His lips twisted in an attempt of his earlier smirk and he cast a weary glance at Seto with decidedly haunted green eyes.

"Well – aren't you even going to say hello Kaiba-" he paused a moment and absorbed the figure behind Seto with a half-frown before adding, "_Ishtar?_"

The Egyptian cast a bewildered stare from the game creator to the openly confused Remus Lupin who hovered uncertainly nearby, his eyes were fixed upon Otogi's form with a devastated expression of confusion.

"You said _home_," Lupin suddenly whispered accusingly as he advanced another step, "it's good to be _home_."

Otogi turned eyes that fluttered with dark ill-disguised humor and replied with a flippant half-smile, "did I? Must have been a slip of the tongue.."

"_Sirius_?" the werewolf demanded again and took a further step forwards.

Seto was beginning to think that perhaps Remus Lupin wasn't as 'together' as everyone assumed him to be. He seemed to hesitate for a second, shaking his head in obvious confusion before pausing and simply _watching _the new arrival.

A sound of footsteps on the stairs distracted the attention of the Game Creator and he turned vivid green eyes upward to observe the approach of a yawning Ginny Weasley who was rubbing an eye absently – and – upon noticing the collection of strangers (who were mostly teenaged boys) tugged uncomfortably at her night-dress before noticing her older brother at the base of the stairs.

Suddenly brushing aside the part of her mind that insisted she be embarrassed she hastened down the stairs, brushing past Malik and Seto and cheerfully declared, "Charlie! So you finally arrived then? Wheres your _girlfriend_?"

A pointed look was thrown over the girls shoulder towards her mother whose face closed off into a decidedly unhappy expression while Charlie's face turned a glorious shade of pink and declared curtly, "I never _said _I was bringing home a -"

A slow and decidedly cruel smile curled over Otogi's lips at the words and he raised an eyebrow archly, "let me assure you that I'm not a girl."

Ginny choked back a laugh and raised an eyebrow primly at her brother.

"Charlie have you been keeping secrets from us..?"

The resulting fierce shade of crimson that flared across her brothers face was cause enough for the laugh that erupted from the youngest of the Weasleys before she shook her head and went in to give her brother a hug.

Needless to say Ginny was more than slightly confused when her brother abruptly let out a curse that their mother _definitely _wouldn't appreciate and stepped backwards half-turning and protecting one of his pockets more carefully than ever. "Charlie – what are you...?"

A sudden and decidedly strange noise that sounded rather like a cross between a hiccup and a sneeze came from the pocket of the elder Weasley's leather jacket.

Another loud and unappreciated curse followed and the elder Weasley hurriedly delved a hand into the pocket of his jacket – withdrew a scaly and shaking handful of _something _from it and held it up and away from his younger sisters direction – quite unintentionally directing it at the still smoldering portrait of the former-Mistress of the house.

There was a loud gagging sound before a stream of vivid scarlet fire exploded from the tiny creatures nostrils and encompassed the gilded frame and the acrid smell of burning oils flooded the room.

A loud and horrified gasp echoed from the direction of the Weasley matron and Bill began to wisely back away, snagging a hold of Remus Lupin's arm to keep him out of the firing line.

"_CHARLES_ -"

Charlie hurriedly cast his eyes around the room for an escape route.

"_ALPHARD_ -"

Cradling the tiny scaly bundle in his fingers he began a hasty assault on the staircase.

"_WEASLEY!_"

Simultaneous cringes reverberated through the Weasleys present and Seto felt his lip curling with amusement even as his eyes drifted curiously towards the tiny bundle of iridescent pearl scales and large glittering eyes cradled within the newest Weasleys hands.(**2**)

"That _better_ not be what I think it is."

With a fleeting gloomy look up at the staircase the second eldest of the Weasley brothers sighed and turned his back on freedom to face his mother. A sliver of hope blossomed in his eyes as he murmured, "what do you _think _it is?"

"You very well know what I think it is Charlie! You better not have bought one home with you."

Seto found himself craning his neck in an attempt to get a good look at the creature that was being so carefully cradled within Charlie's hands, ignoring the soft snickering that had erupted from Malik's direction and the smothered chuckling from Set. He watched as the second eldest Weasley brother cradled the tiny creature closer to his chest almost protectively and gave a half sheepish smile.

"Well I couldn't just _leave _him there Mum.."

"_Charlie!_"

The redhead grimaced visibly and absently ruffled the back of his hair with his free hands and an exasperated sigh.

"His mother rejected him! If I'd left him there she would have killed him."

For a moment Molly Weasleys low breathing and soft footfalls were the only sounds within the entire hallway before she exploded.

"If you _think _that I am going to let you keep a DRAGON in this house you are very _very _much mistaken! I thought you had finally matured – you're just as bad as the bloody twins! And I wondered where they got it from!"

Ginny winced visibly and backed towards the nearest doorway, her eyes lingering briefly upon the stranger that stood in the center of the entrance hall soaking in the show with a curled lip and obvious amusement.

Bill cast his younger brother a consolatory smile and made to disappear into the kitchen, covering his nose and mouth with one hand to block out the steadily growing streams of smoke that poured off of the now crackling and half-devoured canvas that had once housed the charming Mrs Black.

At the top of the staircase Yuugi Mutou watched with curious eyes – ignoring the cluster of Wizards and the Witch at his back in favor of trying to absorb what was happening. Ron – upon seeing his brother and the fashion in which his mother was bearing down upon him he gave a pitying shake of his head and muttered sadly, "and he only just arrived as well."

Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly at the red-head and muttered back, "don't be melodramatic."

Harry's lip quirked faintly before he caught sight of the stranger at the center of the room and frowned slightly, stretching on the tips of his toes to attempt to get a good look at him he elbowed first Ron, then Hermione in turn in the ribs and hissed, "who's that?"

"Dice-boy," was the curt response from somewhere behind them and Hermione let out an undignified squawk at the sight of the decidedly creepy white-haired boy.

Harry's head swiveled towards the new arrival and felt an unbidden shiver roll down his spine upon realizing it was the less amiable of the pair in control. Raising one dark eyebrow in obvious amusement he retorted dryly, "dice boy?"

Yuugi's head swiveled around and he rolled his eyes with distaste and cast a reprimanding glare in Bakura's direction, "his _name _is Otogi – _not _dice-boy."

"Why would you call him dice-boy?" Ron piped up in vague interest, peering down at the Game Creator before his eyes caught upon the sight of his older brother – or, more specifically – on the creature cradled in his brothers hand.

The youngest Weasley brother swore loudly enough to attract Mrs Weasleys unwanted attention and let out low whistle of appreciation before letting out a far too loud exclamation of, "he brought a _ruddy_ dragon home. I don't _believe_ it."

Immediately several sets of eyes shot towards Seto's form – catching him even as he craned his neck further to the side to attempt to get a better view of the tiny creature and several pairs of lips curled into very amused smirks.

"See Kaiba," Malik drawled loudly even as Mrs Weasley continued to rampage at her second-born, "I told you that you wouldn't want to miss this."

* * *

By the next morning the uproar that had followed Otogi and Charlie's arrival had begun to die down. To Molly Weasley's undying distress Charlie had flat-out refused to dispose of his new found charge who he had taken to calling Kleidon – though nobody had been able to determine why. (**3**)

Although the Game Creator had yet to make an appearance that morning, it didn't mean that he hadn't become a subject of intense curiosity to several of the occupants of the table – Seto Kaiba wasn't one of them.

He was far too occupied with the tiny creature that Charlie had brought to breakfast.

Throughout breakfast the Weasley matron had been shooting murderous looks at the baby dragon that was now (to Seto's undying amusement) currently scampering around the breakfast table.

Watching with veiled interest as Charlie carefully snatched the baby dragon back into his arm range Seto leaned back in his chair and attempted to ignore the latest of _many_ (slightly huffy, truth be told) jests that the spirit had been subjecting him too since the night before, '_honestly omote, why don't you just marry the damned thing?_'

A very visible scowl crossed Seto's lips and he reached for his coffee with a spasming twitch to his eyebrow. '_I am not obsessed,_' he retorted coolly, '_I just find it interesting._'

Indeed he did – from the shimmering scales that resembled chips of mother pearl to the glittering rainbow of ever-changing colors that were its pupil-less eyes. The folded tiny leathery wings that would every so often beat the air in a decidedly huffy manner and the curiously ungainly way that it would scamper across the table cloth to try and escape Charlie's grasps.

It was simply _fascinating. _Althoughit did not have the obvious strength and sinuous raw power that radiated from the Blue Eyes – nor did it quite have the grace that he had come to associate with his favorite card and filled him with awe every time he saw it. It so obviously carried the traits of what it was to become – powerful and awe-inspiring – and to be quite frank, it was sort of cute.

'_Right_,' Set mused cheerfully through his mind in obvious amusement, '_you aren't obsessed omote. You're in love._'

Seto paused, his eyes sharpening with a degree of dark amusement as he suggested languidly, '_jealous are we?_'

The elder Kaiba took a deep drink of his coffee, smirking at the spluttering of indignation from Set and watching the little dragon as it flapped its wings irritably at its Keeper.

In complete contrast to Seto's affection for the tiny creature, there was more then one person at the table who held no love for it.

Even though Bakura had taken the trouble of seating himself as far away as possible from Charlie the tiny dragon had thus far succeeded no less than five times in escaping his keeper long enough to give the white-haired boy a good nip on the hand. This had become a source of great amusement to Malik and to Charlie himself, who had told them already that the particular breed of dragon was usually not the least bit aggressive unless hungry. It was when Bakura let out another, now irate, hiss of pain that Seto found his lips curling in appreciation for the tiny creature.

"Perhaps," Malik interjected loftily with a far too innocent smile, "Dragons simply have a sixth sense towards shady characters Tomb Robber."

Murderous scarlet eyes pinned down the half-smirking Tomb Keeper and a low deadly hiss responded, "_perhaps_," in a mocking tone, "we should see how well _you_ respond while I'm feeding you piece by piece to the infernal beast."

Malik raised an eyebrow as Charlie hurriedly swept the dragon towards him with a hint of amusement touching his lips, "this little fellow doesn't eat humans," he murmured fondly before tacking a somewhat thoughtful, "usually" on the end.

"What _do_ they eat?" Mokuba piped up curiously, eying his brother with amusement as Seto took another long sip from his coffee.

"Don't get him _started_," Ginny groaned loudly from the other side of the table, rolling her eyes and casting a grimace at Bill who returned it.

"Sheep usually," Charlie replied coolly, calmly ignoring Ginny's echoing groan and Bill as he mimed plunging his butter knife into his chest.

The Dragon Keeper grimaced visibly as the baby dragon once again scampered out of his reach – began to head down the table in the direction of Bakura again and abruptly paused. For a moment glittering eyes searched the table in curiosity before lingering upon Seto curiously and beginning to scamper in his direction.

Only one person noticed the soft glow of the Sennen Rod as it ebbed away and the hidden smile that Set bore as he emerged from the Rod to observe his handiwork – and that one person was quite certain that they wouldn't let the issue slip by unnoticed.

"Kaiba – I'd like a word."

Seto's lips curled into a hesitant and somewhat unnatural looking smile as the tiny dragon sniffed cautiously at the hand that had set his coffee mug back on the table. After a moment of suspicion it seemed to place an overt amount of trust in him, flapping its leathery wings in approval before scampering atop the hand and traversing its way up his sleeve.

Atemu's expression twisted comically and he rolled his eyes at the expression his rival (the living _rock _as Jounouchi had 'affectionately' dubbed him not so long ago) gave the tiny dragon.

If he didn't know Seto Kaiba better, Atemu would have sworn he'd seen a genuine smile.

* * *

In Seto's esteemed opinion the night was far too quiet – or at least, it _would_ have been if Atemu would stop talking.

It was one of the blackest nights that Seto had ever witnessed – the stars were veiled in a cloud of city smog that encompassed the sky and left the moon barely more then a sickly sliver. The suburban street was deathly silent – the occupants of the neighborhood having long retired to their beds, and now Seto wished he could do the same.

Goosebumps had already risen across his arms beneath his thick jacket and the night was so very still that even Atemu's soft whispers could still be discerned – or so that was what Seto gathered from the irritable rustling of a clump of bushes from across the road that housed an even more irritable Alastor Moody.

It had been a long wait.

Already they had been stationary for two hours – waiting for any sign of movement from the brood of dark wizards that were supposedly assigned to terrorize this particular neighborhood on this particular night. Seto wondered absently if it was unreasonable to be beginning to get slightly irritated at the Potions Master for assigning him to wait with Atemu – because it was _certainly_ happening.

"_Kaiba_," was the determined hiss in a would-be quiet tone.

With a long-suffering sigh Seto turned his head and narrowed his eyes at the ridiculous silhouette that the former-Pharaoh made in the dark – somewhat resembling a cabbage tree – and hissed back, "_what_ Pharaoh?"

"I was wondering.. What it was that you were talking about that afternoon after you rescued me. You said something about.."

Seto grimaced visibly and readjusted his position in their chosen hiding spot, shifting the Sennen Rod to rest in his other hand and stretching the first with a cracking of knuckles. "I don't think that concerns you," he replied, curtly cutting him off in mid-sentence.

A faint glimpse of moonlight got caught in crimson eyes as the Pharaoh shifted and let out a grunt of irritation before muttering back, "I think it most certainly does Kaiba. What did you mean when you said that Set intended to sacrifice your life for the greater good?"

Seto found his lips twist with distaste and _felt _the murmur of indignation from Set within him, he paused, wiping dust off of the Rod onto the sleeve of his jacket before muttering sharply, "believe me when I say you don't want to know."

An irritated huff came from the Pharaoh's direction and he leaned closer to the elder Kaiba with a narrowed stare that wasn't entirely visible in the darkness. "I suggest you tell me now Kaiba or I'll get it out of Malik or Bakura. _They _both seem to have some idea of whats going on."

Seto felt his lip quirk at the level of indignation that lit the Pharaoh's tone and fought back a laugh as Set snorted within his mind and muttered, 's_o that's what prompted this little deep and meaningful conversation then – it seems my dear cousins feeling excluded._'

"Fine," Seto conceded with just the right amount of irritation still coloring his voice, "you want to know then _Pharaoh_? It seems that after _you _died one of your Priests had a vision of the future – one in where _you _had to fight a terrible battle against some great power that would determine the balance of the world. She was frightened that you might not have the power to overcome this threat and so had Set sacrifice himself to the Rod so he could find _me _and use me to initiate some sort of ritual to transfer power to you to enable _your_ victory."

As Seto spoke he did not realize that his voice was slowly rising in volume or that Atemu shrank back in obvious surprise – so focused were the two upon their own discussion that they didn't hear the series of cracks that suddenly filled the air and deposited black swathed shapes upon the dark street.

The first indication that anything had changed about their surroundings was when a deep voice muttered aloud, "can you hear that? I think there's someone out there.."

There was a pause in which silence reigned and Seto froze in his spot, blue eyes carefully searching their way through the foliage to peer at the gathering of dark shapes in the center of the street. Inwardly cursing himself and ignoring the amused chuckle from Set, Seto tensed and clenched the Rod carefully between his fingers.

A silken voice declared calmly, "Macnair – you check that side of the street, Avery you check the other. Be quick about it. If there's anyone out there bring them to me."

The thumping of heavy footsteps drew towards their side of the street and Seto cursed his own stupidity with a furious glare in Atemu's direction. Carefully shifting his feet over the slick grass to stretch out his stiff muscles as best as he could he readjusted his grip on the Sennen Rod and waited.

It was thus, a great surprise when a sudden flash of brilliant red light lit up the street and streamed through the air to strike through a clump of bushes opposite from them.

A soft thump echoed through the still night air.

Seto nearly jumped at the vivid spit of colorful cursing that suddenly erupted from the clump of Roses that Bill Weasley had taken refuge in as another ray of red sailed through the air and came quite close to hitting its target. A burst of action rustled the bushes as the red-head dove into new position and began to fire off curses, setting the night alight with blazing colors.

Instinct roared at Seto that he should _move, _that he should leave before he was dragged into another battle that wasn't _his _to fight but he found himself unable to move. He could feel Set's stubborn will echoing violently through his soul, that implicit ruling that refused to leave the Pharaoh in the middle of a battlefield – and somewhere within himself Seto knew that he simply couldn't leave these people without even trying.

It was as Seto's will made its ultimate conclusion that he realized he had made a terrible error in his judgment – for in his internal debate he had forgotten the approaching threat that had somehow managed to get behind them.

"So there's more of you is there?"

The voice was sharp and filled with a dark amusement that brought back vivid recollections of the _last _minion of that particular Dark Lord that Seto had met. A soft gasp of surprise escaped from Atemu's direction as he received a sharp prod at the base of his neck with a decidedly pointy wand.

A mocking leer touched the Death Eaters lips as he reached out to haul the significantly smaller figure of the Pharaoh to his feet, dull eyes catching a flash of moonlight as they turned pointedly upon Seto.

"On your feet."

The very essence of Seto's ego protested violently against compliance with the order, but Set, it seemed, had other ideas.

'_Do as he says omote,_' was the quiet murmur.

Seto's eyes darkened considerably at the very _prospect _of doing so and he looked fit to protest when he felt the brush of decidedly mocking laughter and a prodigious purr rolled from the spirits presence. '_Not yet,_' was the dangerous murmur and Seto could feel rather than see the flashing of dark eyes.

'_We wait for the opportune moment._' (**4**)

* * *

Knockturn Alley wasn't the kind of place that Remus Lupin often frequented, and with good reason.

It was a stark comparison with the friendly bubbling atmosphere of Diagon Alley, which, even in dark times such as the ones they were living in, was still considered a relatively safe place to visit.

The cobbled path was filthy and shrouded on all sides by all manner of establishments funded by their unhealthy wares – leering terrible faces lingered on the people who crowded the streets. Only feet away from the werewolf himself was a hag, her face obscured by a thick veil who was hawking off her wares.

A closer look made him shiver unconsciously, she was selling _vampire _blood.

No matter how many times Remus found himself forced into entering this particular dark corner of the Wizarding world, he never ever got used to it.

Casting a quick look over his shoulder towards the shrouded forms of his charges he found himself frowning, it seemed that Bakura and Malik were somewhat _too _intrigued by the grubby 'charms' of the alley.

It was somewhat of a surprise to see how well the pair had managed to blend into the atmosphere of one of the crudest scenes of Wizardry on earth – he found himself regretting having to bring the pair here at all.

Yet, duty called and wherever Malfoy went – _they_ followed.

The werewolf grimaced abruptly and swept his eyes hurriedly over the _filth _that crowded the alley, "_speaking _of Malfoy .." he murmured absently to himself as he caught sight of a head of fine silver-blond entering a store several feet ahead.

Shooting a sharp frown in Malik and Bakura's direction Remus hurried forwards, tugging the thick black cloak that he had borrowed from Sirius' wardrobe closer around himself and shielding his face effectively with the hood.

He could already see Tonks – a lounging, sneering figure of anonymity with lank black hair and bored hazel eyes – leaning against a grubby display window (featuring a set of gruesome shrunken heads) next to a vendor that was opposite the store that Malfoy had entered. Lips twitched with amusement as her disguise faltered momentarily when she was offered what appeared to be a small vial.

Her face twisted and she cast a particularly nasty sneer in the vendors direction before fixing her eyes firmly upon the door opposite.

Remus hid a smile and turned his eyes instead toward the swinging sign that hung above the doorway, his lips twitched wryly as he read the flaking dark green paint that pronounced the somewhat grimy store to be '_Borgin and Burkes_.'

It was the largest store in the entire alley – a fact that was only reflected in its considerable reputation. The owner was a Mister Borgin – a man of questionable integrity who the Order had been shadowing for some time as a known supplier of goods of ill-repute to Voldemort and his supporters.

Remus cast a grimace in the direction of the sign and wondered if following Malfoy into the store was a very prudent idea. He cast a frown over his shoulder and instead decided to wait for Malfoy to leave – after all, he could always determine what it was that Malfoy had done _after _he had left the store.

With a discrete wave of his fingers the twin shadows that had been casually meandering their way up the street towards him paused and branched off to opposite sides of the road in (what Remus _hoped_) to be the pretense of perusing the wares of the Hag that he had seen earlier and a small window display of poisonous candles.

Satisfied that the pair were sticking to the plan he turned his eyes across the street towards Tonks and found with some amusement that she was wearing a _very _sour expression on her face now and was furiously waving a hand at the persistent (and _very _unpleasant looking) wizard who was now brandishing the vial at her in a somewhat threatening manner.

Pondering absently if he it would look suspicious if he were to approach her he found his back suddenly going rigid, and a strong enticing smell of...

"_Blood_," was the hoarse mutter that rolled up his throat without his prompting.

Eyes swiveled sharply towards the Hag's direction and focused upon the uncorked crystal bottle she now held in her hands. The sharp tang of blood held thick in his nostrils, followed by the tell-tale itching that practically _reeked _of magic. His eyes widened faintly in surprise, she was selling _real _Vampire blood.

As he watched a pale hand stretched out in curiosity for the bottle as though for inspection and he let out a curse that he hadn't meant to give voice to. Unwilling to bring attraction to himself (_or _the fugitive Tomb Robber in question) Remus found himself biting down on his lip and cursing his luck at being landed with the decidedly eerie boy he turned his eyes almost pleadingly upon the other of the two.

Malik had been decidedly quiet for the entire day, compared to his usual bold attitude at least, and the front he had put up was decidedly weak. After all, Remus had grown up with Sirius Black and James Potter – if anyone could sniff out a liar it was him.

The werewolf's lip quirked as the Egyptian seemed to get the message and strode purposefully across the narrow alleyway to deftly remove the Vampire blood from his companions fingers and recork it. After shoving it back into the Hags arms (amidst her indignant wailing) he made to grab hold of his white-haired companions arm – and was shoved rather violently off of his feet.

As the borrowed cloak slipped away from the Egyptians startled face the door behind Remus opened with the tinkling of oddly-out-of-place store bells. The werewolf's head jerked around as Lucius Malfoy strode out of the store triumphantly and his head turned lazily in all directions of the alleyway before giving a curt-nod.

"You've been of the utmost help Lupin" was the casual drawl that rang through Remus' ears even as he drew his wand, eyes stuck upon the suddenly emerging figures swathed in cloaks of black.

A shudder of reminiscence rolled through his spine as he saw her – that insane curl of her lips, the wild unhinged gleam in her eyes and – oh _god_. His stomach convulsed as her head turned, giving him a first hand view of the face that had haunted his dreams. That laughing _mocking _face that had driven the only remnants of the happy times of his life to an anonymous death through the Black Veil.

It was – distorted. Terrible burns encasing one side of her face in a wretched mask, the other just as hollowed and destroyed by the shadows of Azkaban as it had been that night so long ago. A vision flooded his mind of a tremendous white dragon as it tore apart the sky and earth with one furious blast. Another shudder rolled down his back.

Her eyes glittered madly as she blew him a twisted form of a kiss, raising her wand and – it was ripped from her hands.

A singing ray of brilliant green hit and cracked the wall behind him and Remus threw himself into the fight. His mind clearing abruptly in favor of the spells he knew, he fixed his wand sharply upon the figure who had attempted to curse him roared out, "_Reducto._"

Satisfaction touched his lips even as the body was hurled backwards at a startling rate only to hit a wall with a sickening crunch and sink to the ground unconscious.

His eyes turned sharply back to where Bellatrix Lestrange had stood to find the space was curiously empty. Sharp cracks began to resound around the alleyway and Remus stared in slowly growing realization at the space that the murderer of his best friend had recently vacated – leaving only a decidedly shaken Ryou Bakura in her wake.

The pale-haired boys large eyes caught the dull London afternoon light, stained with shock even as he took a step towards where the woman had formerly stood.

"They took him," he whispered in a dazed voice even as he knelt to touch the ground with a strangely absent expression.

Remus felt the blood drain from his face as he realized what it was that he had been missing from the equation, the dizzying relief that the Death Eaters had retreated poisoned by the mutinous whisper in his own mind.

The Death Eaters were gone, yes, - and they had taken Malik Ishtar with them.

* * *

Seto was surprised to see how few of the dark figures there were upon the street. Perhaps only half-a-dozen of them clustered in a broken semi-circle in the middle of the road, waiting boredly as another black figure departed from the bushes opposite them – dragging with him the familiar disfigured shape of Alastor Moody by his boots. Blue eyes followed the grunting figures form as he paused once he met with who Seto assumed to be the leader of the group and deposited the Auror in front of him.

"Get moving" was the gruff command from behind as Seto paused in his deliberately covert movements.

There was another thump and the rays of light that had been sailing from the Rose-bushes stopped coming.

"Got another one," was the amused murmur from somewhere to Seto's right and he suddenly wondered at the fact that their own captor hadn't alerted the other Death Eaters of their presence.

Realization suddenly clicked within his mind just as Set surged into control with a dim glow of light from the Rod and all three stopped dead in their tracks.

The Death Eater seemed startled by the sudden change and turned his wand threateningly upon Set – unwittingly removing Atemu from his predicament long enough to get out of the way. It didn't take long for the man to make his mistake and it took even less time for Set to take advantage of it.

The dim moonlight caught the slick gold as he raised it before him, eyes glittering faintly as he concentrated and projected his mind forwards through the Rod's power, ensnaring his captors mind.

Lips curled with dry amusement as previously sharp eyes slackened and went into a dull trance-like glaze. Satisfied the High Priest stepped backwards and cocked an eyebrow casually in Atemu's direction, meeting the somewhat embarrassed grimace Set smirked and turned back to the Death Eater.

"You will return to your companions," he commanded sharply.

For a moment there was silence before a hoarse voice muttered back dreamily, "I will return to my companions."

The corners of Set's lips tugged upwards ominously, "you will tell them that you found nothing."

In the same deliberate tone the Death Eater replied, "I will tell them that I found nothing."

For a moment it seemed that Set would have very much liked to say something else – that something however, was never uttered due to a very pointed ominous hiss from Seto's watchful presence.

With a dismissive wave of his Rod Set commanded (sounding distinctly put out), "go."(**5**)

The dark figure slouched off through the bushes in a daze, eyes still blank as he advanced upon the awaiting group who turned toward him impatiently.

A decidedly deep voice inquired sharply, "well Macnair? We haven't got all night.."

"I found nothing," was the vague response from the hefty figure.

"What took you so long then?" came a decidedly suspicious mutter from near the first voice.

There was a pause in which Macnair inhaled deeply before replying in the same vague tone, "I found nothing."

Several mutters crossed the circle as another figure in black arrived, dragging Bill Weasley's unconscious form by his feet towards the group.

"Two? I highly doubt that they only sent _two _to take care of us – Dumbledore's not fool enough for _that. _They can't have known about the ambush could they?"

Atemu grimaced at the hiss of surprise that reverberated through his skull.

"There's no way – the Dark Lord would have found out if they'd known. Besides – Snape was obviously fool enough to take the bait," the speaking figure cast a disdainful look down at the unconscious red-head at his feet and nudged him with his shoe.

Seto was suddenly overwhelmed with the need to _do _something. He didn't _care _that the Weasley had managed to grate upon every _one _of his nerves during his stay at Order Headquarters, he didn't _care _that the wizened old Moody was safely anonymous to him – he simply realized that he would be making a mistake if he didn't wipe every single one of those black specks off the horizon.

He didn't know what quite possessed him to do it – but the moment that he tried to push for control he found himself flooded with a searing blinding power. It roared through him like fire and shadow and crept through his mind like a poisonous blanket of velvet black.

The strength that swam through his veins was intense and _white _laced with black that purred and twined its way through his consciousness – _around _his consciousness. Binding two beings into one.

In that moment he felt untouchable – _infallible_ and unreachable. It was dizzying and intoxicating and - _god - _he couldn't breathe but that was alright and his head was pounding – or was that his pulse?

And the rod. The rod was like a star, like the _sun –_ a flare in the darkest of dark nights that threw everything into pale disgrace. The moon was a forgotten bauble in the sky, sick with envy to the ball of brilliance that lay in _his _palm.

And was that the rod that was speaking to him? _Justice _it urged. He felt sick – was he Set or was he Seto? He didn't quite know anymore.. Maybe he was neither. But the voice said _justice _and so there would be **justice**.

The assembled Death Eaters were stunned by the apparition that suddenly appeared upon the pavement. The survivors – a scarce two – later whispered that his eyes had been a black abyss that somehow _burned _like the deepest fires of hell. They had whispered of the _ruin _they had seen in those eyes. They had cried into their lost and lonely nightmares as they fell into the abyss of those eyes.

Not a single one had felt the strength to move at the ominous crack like thunder that had split their ear-drums, or the searing power that had flooded their beings leaving them helpless against the darkest whisper of their minds.

For as the dark haze that had swept his mind passed and Seto found himself a shivering, trembling wreck stumbling upon his ill-prepared feet – feeling as though he had been _burnt _from the inside out a fading whisper echoed through the depths of his mind.

'.._For those who dare look a god in the eyes will see naught else thereafter._'

* * *

Seto didn't recall _ever _feeling so terrible in his life.

His vision swam as he attempted to sit up, dazed and unsure as he tried to focus on his surroundings.

"You are at the Order Headquarters," was the decidedly solemn rumbling voice that greeted him.

Blinking several times and trying to ignore the fact that he felt like he'd swallowed _sand_ he focused upon the blurred shape that he now saw was perched in a table-chair at his bedside. Raising a trembling(?) hand to comb his fringe out of his eyes, he was able to discern that it was Yuugi – or rather – Atemu.

"The – professor, Dumbledore, has been in several times. He wishes to talk to you when you are ready."

For a moment the Pharaoh frowned at him, a curious look in his eyes before he leaned forwards – eyes focused on the traitorous shaking hand.

Seto shoved it under the bed covers.

Atemu paused a moment before shaking his head slightly and offering what appeared to be an attempt at a smile. "Mokuba's been up here ever since we got back – Mrs Weasley had to – uh, forcibly remove him in order to get him to eat.. He didn't appreciate it."

Finding the prospect _all _too believable Seto cracked a faint smirk and tested his voice, "I can imagine."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them and the King of Games fidgeted absently on his chair and averted his gaze towards the ceiling.

"There was once a time, Cousin, when you would have scolded me for such a poor attempt at holding a civil conversation."

Two pairs of eyes focused on the decidedly weary looking spirit that had appeared unnoticed and seated himself upon the end of Seto's bed. Atemu's eyebrows narrowed in response before he replied coolly, "that, _Set_, was because you were one of the most anti-social people I had ever met."

The spirits lips quirked with amusement before dark eyes turned upon Seto intently, a faint curiosity lingering in his eyes as he searched his counterparts eyes for something.

As though to cover the silence he questioned abruptly of Atemu, "I assume that Weasley and the other wizard are alright then? Snape got them out alright?"

Atemu nodded wordlessly, turning his eyes between the pair thoughtfully before hiding a small smile. "Yes – they were both well enough."

A brief quirk of the Pharaoh's lips followed before he murmured again in a slightly more amused tone, "I believe that Otogi has made himself at home in harassing Bill. Bill doesn't appreciate it but at least Otogi's talking – he refused to speak to anyone all day."

Atemu paused again before sighing loudly and turning his eyes upon Seto fully, confusion evident in them as he muttered aloud, "what _happened _out there? I've never.."

A visible shudder rolled through the other and he shook his head for a moment before fixing his gaze intently upon Seto's.

Blue eyes met briefly with their darker counterparts, a silent understanding passing between them before both sets of eyes met solemnly with the crimson stare that regarded them.

The answer was quiet and filled with more honesty than Atemu had ever encountered in his dealings with Seto Kaiba.

"I don't know."

Atemu's eyes clouded as he opened his mouth again, looking very much like he wished to speak before snapping it shut as the door burst open, admitting a blur of tangled dark-hair that found shape as Seto's younger brother.

For a moment Mokuba simply stared at his elder brother, eyes adjusting to the sight of him being _awake_ – before he surged towards the bedside with a furious screech of, "I thought you said you were going to be careful!"

Before Seto could make to protest however the boy continued, eyes blazing with indignant fury mixed with fear and worry, "what was I supposed to think? You guys take forever to show up – Bakura returning to say that _Malik _was taking hostage? - Then _them _carrying you in unconscious! You promised me 'nii-sama – you _said _that you'd come back!"

Faced with the onslaught of a furious younger brother Seto took a few moments to process what it was that had been said, all of it added up – accept one.

"What was that about Ishtar?"

* * *

**Footnotes**:

**1**. Haha – a little bit of '_Rove_' infiltrating my mind http / ww w.rovelive .com/ home/ - anyone interested check out the "_What the?_" section.  
**2**. Just a little bit of HP trivia – who can name the breed of Dragon that Charlie brought home?  
**3**. _Kleidon_ –meaning "little key". Just a trifle of information that you might be curious about at some stage..  
**4**. .. Shameless I know. But.. _Jack_!  
**5**. -grins- Set's using a few "Old Jedi Mind Tricks". _May the force be with you!_

* * *

**AN: **Am absolutely **furious** today, can't believe that they didn't cite Umaga and Mealamu for what they did to O'Driscoll.. Totally let down by the system he was – it would have been a different story entirely if the tables were turned. How much sufficient evidence do you NEED? God.. Anyway. Moving on from that rant that will most likely mean absolutely **nothing** to anyone 'esides from myself, it's been a long time but there's the next chapter in all its 17 pages of glory. Lets just say that being slowly drowned in a mass of paper work isn't fun – your lucky you got this _this _quickly! I'm in the middle of at least five internal assessments. There are a few hints here and there and Otogi reared his head – and **gasp** Malik's been taken by the Death Eaters. Everything seems to be coming to a rather nasty climax.. As a matter of interest, which book would be your choice to view next in the series? I've already decided that there will most likely be a sequel to the Seto Book, due to the nature of how I've planned it to end.

**Praeceps:** Glad to hear you enjoyed the last chapter – this one had a great deal more action. Not quite the myth that I was going for – though I_ do_ seem to have confused people with the 'Kings and Dragons' reference. You are on the right track with the culture though, think epic wars between two prominent figures (that incidentally are featured very heavily in the YGO series through modern interpretations..) ..I've said too much.  
**Destiny's Dragon:** Cheers mate.  
**MotherCHOWGoddess:** Always one for hitting the nail on the head aren't you? You got the myth completely right first time – the Egyptian one for reference. Though its a certain interpretation of that particular myth that I'm looking at – let's just say that perhaps the gods aren't quite finished yet? Sheesh I'm spilling **all** my secrets today aren't I? Whoops.. That section_ did_ rather make it seem like Ryou and Bakura had separate bodies, the true order of things was that Bakura was at first control, Ryou appeared in **spirit** form when Lupin threatened him, later on Bakura relinquishes control to Ryou and retreats. Another section that will require fixing up when I go through the editing process.  
**Rima:** My apologies – I shall have to refrain from using so many cliffies! They drive the reviewers nuts. Unfortunately not Isis..  
**Lily of the Shadow:** Gypsy-like indeed P  
**PrEtTyStUpIdGiRl:** Cute? Thats a new one indeed and as for Kisara? Not as such.  
**Queen of the Paperclips:** Oh I couldn't agree with you more.. I can't stand it when Seto turns into some bleeding heart.. It's disturbing to say the least! Very well done on the guess.  
**Night-Owl123:** Another one going for the Isis? Unfortunately not.  
**Nachzez Black-Rider:** Ending quote was courtesy of Douglas Adams, from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series. Interested to hear what people are thinking of the baby dragon – was considering cutting him out entirely.  
**Eden's Echo:** Ah yes, Remus plays somewhat of a minor role to this story – but his participation is required every now and again. He will probably feature more prominently in the Otogi book. Ah yes, Seto definitely_ does_ have a problem with authority that directly relates to Gozaburo.. Remember that the boy is a complete control freak. Not Jou or Shaadi – but interesting that you should mention dear Shaadi..  
**Skycat:** What can you really say? Only hope this has the same effect.  
**DarkDaisy:** Yes.. or so_ you_ say.  
**A lilmatchgirl:** Two dragons in fact.. Both as impractical as each other P  
**Feli Lupan Draco:** A compliment indeed! Hope the plot continues to keep you intrigued.  
**CrystalStorm:** Remember – everything that is said about Atemu through this section is screened through Seto's opinion.  
**Kyia Star:** For one; I don't endorse flaming so no need to worry bout that – thought I should get that out first. I welcome criticism of any kind. I tend to play most of these secrets close to the chest but I'll let you in on a few details to clear things up; take a look at Dumbledore's explanation in the order meeting last chapter. That is the barest of hints you'll get about Otogi's involvement as of yet, more to come next chapter. As for the "mortal" and "wolf" thing – I think you might be a bit confused. Mortal was used in the context of "mortal/immortal" - Bakura viewing himself as an "immortal" as he is a spirit and cannot be killed. Lupin however, is entirely mortal. His being a werewolf not factoring into the equation at all. Hope that cleared up some things for you**.  
Sadistic introvert: **Good to hear – a bit more action this time**!  
Sanjuno Shori Niko: **Glad to hear – who else could it be but Otogi? Gotta love the Dice-Boy**.  
Samuraiduck27: **Wouldn't we all? I won't start with my conspiracy theories though.. let's just say that Big Brother is watching aye**?  
Achika: **I have a psychic on the radar! Thankyou – I was _sure _I had made them **just a tad** obvious**.  
Koriaena: **Abit of both actually – Bakura the first time, Ryou the second time**.  
Musou: **Owch! I really have to get out of the habit of cliff-hangers! As for Isis – since so MANY of you have been grumbling about her '**murder' **I shall uh.. quote a line that appears in the planned epilogue of the fic, "_Life and Death – you would be amazed, old friend, how often they can be confused_**."  
Mariko: **Ah.. Yes, so I gathered**.  
LovingKitten: **Ahh poor Dice-Boy got a raw deal in the series, but he is rather the link in the chain for this plot so.. Otogi-times! - And how could I refuse anyone any Mokuba**?  
Chara13: H**aha... So do I**!  
SchizthePlushieThief: **Very comforting aye? But there is a _chance _for Padfoot at least**.  
Ciardra: **Very, very good. Though you shan't get the explanation 'til next chapter**!  
OpenWindow: **Two in fact.. and glad to hear that my plot is working out**.  
Star-Goddess Z: **You aren't the only dirty minded one you'll find, I think we _all _know what was going through Ginny's mind up there.. **  
Darkmouse Jumu: **It's always _so _much fun to shoot them down every now and again, and dear Charlie brought home not one – but _two _dragons. I feel _immense _pity for the poor lad. The quote was another from the Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy series, from memory it was "Life, the Universe and Everything" but I'm not entirely certain. **  
Mokuba's Official Glomper: **Always good to hear. Che' Bro. **  
Jak'idiot: **Well, Harry in a temper is a force to be reckoned with (as JK so _perfectly _illustrates) and Dumbledore and Atemu was a show down that I've been itching to write! Glad you enjoyed it**!  
Viva Rose: **Can sympathize with you entirely – cheers**!  
Shakiya: **Now thats a legendary effort if I do say so, I dub thee "A legend in thy own bathrobe". Celebrate**!  
Dawn: **Oh you better believe it.. I'm in a vindictive mood. Thanks to the **travesty** that befell my beloved BO'D**.  
Inarae: **Yes I do agree – the HP folks _are _falling to the wayside. But hopefully not _too _much. Well, I shall let you make your own judgements on the Padfoot situation – in connection to the piece of the puzzle I released today. You're _very _astute with your conspiracy theories – though I can assure you Isis is not being held by Voldie. Only one Ishtar at a time – and even _that _might be too much for Mouldy-Voldy to handle. And yes – Shaadi **is** suspiciously absent isn't he. Considering just how instrumental he is to the plot. Oh dear? Have I said too much? Perhaps I should just not mention the Item holders from Ancient Egypt. Hmm.. too late. Poor poor Kaiba**.  
Zina: **Very big thankyous – and yes, an update**.  
Thunderstorm101: **Disjointed? Yeahp. Definite agreement from this camp. **  
QueenofGames2: **Ooh ten bucks to you - and there's an even _bigger _battle on its way. One might even go so far as to say it will be 'divine**.'  
Lady Manetsu: **Tut tut, hasn't anyone ever told you about the art of equivocation? "_Nothing is, but what is not_". Let's just say, quick deaths aren't my style**..  
Phoenixfire1389: **Thank you! Big tick for number one and I shall cheerily refrain from any Isis comments before I give even more way than I already have. Honestly! **  
BH: **Ah yes, Kaiba lives in his own little bubble-world, and everything that doesn't fit the equation is written off by that wonderful thing we call "Kaiba-Logic". Not quite finished, but it's getting there.

* * *

'_Unite for Justice!  
Support B'OD!'_


	21. The Balance of Power

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Book One of Eight;

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Twenty-**  
The Balance of Power.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

The poison of failure hung heavily over Number 12 Grimmauld Place the next day – and none suffered its effects more greatly than Remus Lupin.

His pallor, Seto noted, suggested that he hadn't slept at all since the incident. The smudges of purple that shadowed his eyes were a mere testament to the fact.

Wrapping his fingers for warmth around his coffee mug, Seto averted his eyes once again to the steaming liquid that swirled hazily within the cheerfully painted porcelain. The tremor in the coffee's surface only served to remind him of the cause of it.

His hands had been shaking all morning.

That was probably why Seto wasn't surprised when the decidedly sharp assessment was made of, "you shouldn't be out of bed."

Seto barely spared the Weasley matriarch a passing glance, his only response that of an unintelligible grunt and another swift swig of his coffee. The woman in question pursed her lips at the dismissal and turned back to the stove, not in the slightest bit willing to give up on the debate just yet.

A sizzling rose through the air that Seto found himself tuning out with a queasy turn of his stomach. Pressing his lips firmly together he turned his attention back to the steaming contents of his mug, he was fairly sure that he had never felt worse in his life – except maybe, for the previous night. That, however, didn't mean that he had to let the wizards know that.

Raising a hand he filtered still trembling fingers through his damp bangs distractedly, he had thought that a shower might clear his head.(**1**) Needless to say – the effort had been wasted. Fixing his face Seto took in a deep breath and focused upon gaining a semblance of control. After all, Molly Weasley wasn't the only one watching him this morning.

Casting a decidedly sharp look in the direction of a far-too observant Severus Snape, whose eyes had been fixed firmly upon him over the top of the mornings Daily Prophet, he swept his hand out for the coffee pot and deemed it best to ignore the painfully curious stares of the rest of the table.

'_He seems awfully curious today_.'

Seto nearly jumped at the quiet observation that lingered in his mind. The spirit of the rod sounded almost as bad as _he _felt.

'_They're all far too curious for their own good,_' was Seto's dark response as he lifted his coffee to his lips and took a deep sip.

He could feel traces of Set's amusement tingling at the edge of his consciousness and his lips tugged downwards in response. The spirit clucked his tongue softly in response, somewhere in the near vicinity of Seto's earlobe and the elder Kaiba jumped visibly at the sudden intrusion.

'_Is it any wonder they're curious, omote, when we ourselves cannot explain what happened?_'

Seto turned his eyes briefly in the spirits direction as he directed himself into the chair neighboring Seto's own before turning his eyes back to his coffee mug with a twitch of his lips.

True to form the spirit looked about as bad as Seto's own reflection had that morning – much like he had been doused with a healthy portion of bleach – and much to Seto's irritation his old faithful was proving less than reliable. Seto had never been up against anything that a couple of cups of coffee in advance of a couple of hours of sleep couldn't fix and he wasn't quite sure what to make of it.

"Now _honestly_ – you look like death warmed up. Are you _sure _you shouldn't be resting?"

Seto cast a faint glare of annoyance in the womans direction and growled back, "I'm fine."

The disbelief that clung to Molly Weasley's features were enough indication that Seto certainly didn't _look _fine but she backed off none the less and instead set a plateful of eggs and bacon in front of him.

Ignoring the nauseous groan that escaped the elder Kaiba as she set a plate in front of Remus as well the Weasley matron declared coolly, "if you are so _fine _then you will not object to speaking with Albus later. I was under the impression that last night you were not well enough to see him."

Set didn't bother to suppress the openly amused chuckle at the disgruntled expression that worked its way onto Seto's face and ignored the brief glance he was spared by the decidedly somber Werewolf at the end of the table whose eyes returned to the dregs of his cup of tea almost mechanically.

Lupin didn't even appear to have noticed the plate of food that had been set in front of him.

"Remus?"

The Weasley matron's thinly veiled concern went unnoticed by its recipient who appeared to be swirling the remnants of his tea with dull disinterest.

Seto glanced up in time to catch the decidedly dark sneer that the other occupant of the room directed in Lupin's direction and raised an eyebrow slowly in faint curiosity as the Potions Master rustled his newspaper, drawing attention to the grim cover story.

In huge bold letters the headline read, '_Tragedy Strikes Brockdale Bridge._' (**2**)

When the Weasley matron tried half-heartedly again to attract Remus' attention the Potions Master let out a sneer of laughter before drawling darkly in the other wizards direction, "pathetic Lupin. This house has had enough of moping mutts to last until its rotting in the ground without _you_ starting as well. Though, considering the company you tend to keep Lupin, I wouldn't be surprised."

Considering the Wizards previous lack of reaction to anything that had been said Seto was decidedly surprised to see Lupin's head snap up sharply and focus upon the other with decided clarity.

"How dare you."

The words were spoken so softly that Seto thought he might have imagined them – at least, he might have if Remus hadn't abruptly stood, his eyes shining far brighter than they should have.

Snape's eyebrow raised nonchalantly, his eyes gleaming with something like triumph as he replied silkily, "how dare I _what_ Lupin?"

Mrs Weasley turned, her mouth already opening in an attempt to stop the fight that was brewing.

"How dare you sit in _this _house – at _this _table and insult him."

The same rise of fire that Seto had witnessed in the Order meeting and upon Otogi's arrival was blazing suddenly within the usually docile wizard and a fierce expression had worked its way onto his face.

Snape's lips curled coldly as he shifted his position in his chair, black eyes never leaving those of the other Wizard's as his mouth curled, "you might not have noticed Lupin, but the people you associate with do not command a whole lot of respect."

A cruel glint echoed in his black eyes as he leaned forward and added in the same cold voice, "I do believe there was rejoicing the day after your _dear_ friend Potter and his mud-blood wife died."

From the moment the words left the Potions Masters lips Seto knew that he had something that went beyond insulting. The plate that Mrs Weasley had been determinedly piling food onto dropped to the floor with a dull smash and Remus Lupin's chair clattered to the floor as his spine stiffened and his face was stripped of color.

Lupin's wand was clutched in his fingers so tight that his knuckles had drained too pale white, his eyes were flooded with tears and for a moment he shook so violently that Seto was sure he was going to tear his way through the table to throttle the Potions Master with his own two hands.

"Remus," Mrs Weasley managed to choke out around the shocked silence that had followed Snape's words.

Slowly Remus' wand returned to his pocket, his lips pressed together in a firm line as he slowly extracted himself from the legs of his chair before striding quickly from the room without a second look at any of its occupants.

The Weasley matron let out a soft sigh of, "oh dear," even as she placed the chair back in its place and waved a wand at the mess that her dropped plate had made upon the floor. (**3**)

"I hope you're pleased with yourself Severus," she muttered stiffly in the Potions Masters direction.

Seto rather thought that the man in question _did _look rather pleased with himself as he shuffled the Daily Prophet between his fingers and returned his attention to it.

Shaking her head as the egg and bacon vanished from the floor and plate repaired itself Molly Weasley turned away from the table, her lips pressed firmly together as though determined not to say anything. The silence that followed the events was so intense that Seto found himself shifting uncomfortably without even realizing what he was doing.

It was with grateful eyes that Molly turned towards the doorway when it swung open. The gratitude in her eyes dimmed considerably, however, when she saw who it was.

"Morning Charlie," she declared briskly as she turned her back on the door and moved back to the stove.

The second-eldest of the Weasley brothers spared a half-smile and a subdued, "morning mum" before settling down into a chair that was a considerable distance away from the silent Potions Master.

Seto's eyes drew magnetically towards the gleaming bundle of scales curled upon the dragon tamers shoulder and felt his lips quirk in the first signs of good humor he'd shown all morning. A shimmer of open amusement crossed Set's own lips as he rolled dark eyes and leaned towards his reincarnation to murmur enigmatically into his ear, "I've known many who would kill for the pleasure."

Seto flinched at the proximity of the voice and turned his head towards the spirit with a visible furrow of his brow. Blue eyes fixed questioningly upon the spirit but upon receiving no answer were given over for a decidedly hoarse mutter of, "what are you talking about?"

The High Priests lips quirked with amusement and he replied in a low tone, "to incite that amount of reaction from you in the morning – I believe even the little snot had deemed it impossible."

With a brief, yet decidedly chilly, look in Set's direction the elder Kaiba turned his eyes back towards where the sleeping Kleidon had previously been and instead found the grinning face of the newest addition to the table.

Charlie Weasley stretched his arms high over his head with a conspicuously loud yawn before cracking his neck with a grimace. "I believe you're the one to throttle for keeping Bill alive," he declared conversationally, his hands moving towards the pile of stacked toast that had gone untouched until now.

"_Charlie!_"

The Dragon Keeper cast an amused glance in his irritable mothers direction before returning his eyes to Seto and correcting himself in good humor, "the one to _thank profusely _for keeping Bill alive then."

The ever so slight raise of his eyebrows, coupled with the unnaturally strong amount of eye-contact that the Dragon Keeper maintained dictated that it would be easiest to simply answer and so Seto replied with a faintly surprised murmur, "in part."

Seto paused for a moment, a nasty urge wriggling its way up through his mind that he couldn't quite find a reason for, before a decidedly amused half-smirk touched his face, "I believe _Severus _had something to do with it as well."

For a moment the Weasley brothers face froze in motion, the cheerful grin slackening ever so slightly before resuming (with only the faintest scrunching of his nose) and turning his gaze briefly towards the Wizard in question.

A wizard looking less than gratified at his mention in the affair.

"I assure you," came the decidedly irritable response as black eyes shot towards Seto with faint puzzlement, "I had very little if anything to do with it. It was _all _Mister Kaiba's doing."

Charlie's eyes glittered with something that could have been amusement before it was snuffed out and replaced with the same conversational tone, "it wouldn't do to have you feeling that we were ungrateful for your part in it though.. _Sir_."

A decidedly sullen glare was fixed briefly upon Seto before turning upon the Weasley brother with a grimace and a muttered response of, "you over-estimate my involvement."

A wan smile was all that the Potions master got in response as the Dragon Keeper returned to buttering his toast and his eyes were once again directed upon Seto.

His eyes widened somewhat comically as he watched the tiny dragon, that had previously been sleeping on his shoulder, sniff cautiously at Seto's plate of quickly cooling (and noticeably untouched) bacon and eggs. After a pause his lips curled into a good-natured grin and he lifted his eyes once again to the elder Kaiba whose attention was completely directed towards the little creature.

"He likes you," Charlie declared abruptly, causing the other to startle out of his reverie and turn with badly-concealed curiosity shining in his eyes towards him.

Without waiting for any further acknowledgment the Dragon Keeper continued, determined to keep some sort of conversation going for his own sanity at least, "its strange really. They're usually quite anti-social creatures – don't like humans much at all."

Without a word he rolled up the thick sleeve of his woolen sweater, revealing several thick strips of scarring that looked like they had once been deep gouges.

"It was my first time handling a Ukrainian Irony-belly – I was too busy watching out for its teeth that I forgot about its talons. I was lucky I didn't lose half my arm."

Contrary to the grim sight that the scars made a wide smile cracked the Weasley brothers face as he rolled his sweater back down and gave a rueful chuckle, ignoring the decidedly tight-lipped expression that his mother gave him as she presented a plateful of bacon and eggs in front of him with rather more force than was necessary.

"Kleidon here is an Antipodean Opal-Eye. Very rare of course, well, at least rare for the Northern Hemisphere. They're native to New Zealand and Australia," Charlie bore a grin in Seto's direction as he scooped a forkful of scrambled eggs towards his mouth and noted that the elder Kaiba wasn't even bothering to hide his interest.

The dragon, now halfway through tearing apart the second of three of Seto's strips of bacon with vicious jerks of its teeth, didn't appear to mind the fact that the elder Kaiba was brushing a finger absentmindedly between its tiny leathery wings. Molly cast a disapproving glare in the tiny dragons direction even as she turned back to the stove with a huff.

"His mother was one of the worst-tempered of her breed I've ever met – she nearly took one of the Keepers arms off when she first arrived. Disowned the little guy as soon he was born – she would have killed him if we hadn't had him removed."

For a moment the Dragon Keeper paused, his fork hovering halfway between his plate and his mouth with a thoughtful look upon his face before offering another smile in Seto's direction and swallowing another mouthful of scrambled eggs.

"Charlie -"

Seto found himself thinking that Mrs Weasley's voice was rather strained, "did Bill seem alright to you when you got up?"

Swallowing his last mouthful the Dragon Keeper rolled his eyes pointedly in Seto's direction and turned his head towards his mother with another of his seemingly endless supply of smiles, "you mean aside from the continuous stream of groaning and '_why me?_'s while I was trying to sleep?"

The Weasley matron narrowed her eyes.

Charlie didn't bother to hide his amusement as he raised his eyebrows marginally in Seto's direction and replied cheerfully, "he seemed fine."

The tense expression on the Weasley matron's face lessened and she offered a decidedly less strained smile at her son in response.

"At least – fine enough to attempt to beat that lunatic Otogi to death with his pillow.."(**4**)

Seto found himself hard pressed not to snicker at the very idea and so turned his attention from the Weasley's back onto the much more favorable tiny dragon.

His lips curled and he watched with faint amusement as the dragon devoured his last piece of bacon and sniffed hopefully at his plate in search of more. Finding none it instead began its ungainly scamper towards Seto's hand and sniffed at it cautiously before freezing abruptly. It's large pupil-less eyes turned a violent shade of violet and it began to make making an odd sound that sounded somewhat like a cross between a hiccup and a sneeze.

There was sudden pandemonium as Charlie threw himself in a tremendous leap from his chair in a belly flop on the table which groaned loudly under the sudden weight. Ignoring the oozing feeling of his breakfast soaking through his clothing the Dragon Keeper seized the dragon in both hands and lifted the dragon high over his head and away from all present company as it began to wheeze loudly.

Only seconds later a stream of brilliant scarlet erupted from its nostrils.

A hysterical shriek erupted from the general direction of the stove as Molly Weasley swooped forwards, her face an ominous shade of crimson and a storm brewing in her eyes. For a moment Charlie watched in stunned silence as one of the faded floral-print curtains began to crackle merrily, before slowly extracting himself from the table before it gave way completely.

Clutching the little dragon to his egg-covered chest he offered a pacifying half-smile in his mothers direction and began to back away from the mess he had made of the table.

"You know, he _really _can't help.."

The words died on Charlie's tongue as his mothers eyes cracked with lightning and thunder rolled from her tongue.

"_CHARLES -_"

Seto watched in faint amusement as the Dragon Keeper skidded on spilled scrambled eggs as he raced off out of the kitchen door, snagging a piece of toast with his fingers and casting one last rueful look back at his ruined breakfast.

* * *

"_Why, to tell long stories, showing how I have spoiled my life through morally rotting in my corner, through lack of fitting environment, through divorce from real life, and rankling spite in my underground world, would certainly not be interesting; a novel needs a hero, and all the traits for an anti-hero are expressly gathered together here, and what matters most, it all produces an unpleasant impression, for we are all divorced from life, we are all cripples, every one of us, more or less._" **(5)**

Seto paused, his eyes raising slowly to meet their lighter counterparts with a sardonic curl of his lips. Albus Dumbledore met his stare with a benign smile, an ironical gleam twinkling merrily in his periwinkle eyes as he leaned forwards to rest his elbows upon the smooth mahogany table that sat between them.

"I am told it is a classic," was the innocent suggestion that did little to hide the obvious amusement in his voice.

An eyebrow raised sardonically in response. Seto highly doubted that the book had opened at that particular passage by pure coincidence.

"You did not bring me here to give me a get well present," Seto offered diplomatically as he snapped the pages closed and set his eyes to firmly staring down their opposing force.

"I did not," Dumbledore conceded with an inclination of his head, "I wish to speak with you on several matters. Most pressingly that which involves the events of last night and the abduction of your friend Mister Ishtar."

Seto's lips curled with derisive amusement, his eyes glinting cruelly in the subdued light as he readjusted his position in the chair. The novel came to a rest in his lap as his arms folded over his chest.

"He is not my friend," he declared with a deliberately biting tone, the sneer becoming even more pronounced as he added sharply as though in justification, "he kidnapped my brother and tried to murder half of the passengers of my airship in their beds."

Albus' lips quirked with faint amusement as his chin rose ever so slightly, eyes twinkling merrily as they observed the eldest Kaiba over half-moon glasses, "and _yet _the pair of you have worked quite proficiently together on many occasions over the course of the last few weeks."

Seto felt his shoulders tense accordingly and settled for sending a somewhat disgruntled scowl at the headmaster and carefully pushing his feelings on the matter away. He needed to keep a clear head for the discussion ahead or he would end up sounding like a sullen teenager.

'_No matter that that is precisely what you are Omote._'

A muscle twitched ominously above his left eye.

The spirit of the Rod inclined his head lazily towards the Headmaster as he made himself known draping himself over the back of Seto's chair, his elbows resting on the shoulders of his reincarnation. The wisened headmaster hid a smile at the wash of faint pink that surprised itself upon the elder Kaiba's cheeks.

"I have already spoken with Mister Mutou concerning last nights events and we have come to the conclusion that there are forces at work that even he does not have a profound knowledge of."

Seto's eyes sharpened upon the headmaster, his fingertips drumming out a beat against his upper-arm as he determinedly ignored the presence of the High Priest. The words that were forming upon his tongue were overshadowed however by Set's interruption, "and you?"

"I have a few theories – each as unlikely as the next. I was hoping that together we might be able to reach a conclusion."

The troubled smile that the wizard offered him went without notice from the elder Kaiba as he deliberated over his thoughts. For a moment he seemed unlikely to speak, his eyes darkening as he was absorbed in thought before he murmured somewhat doubtfully, "I remember very little."

"A small detail can recall just as much an entire monologue," the headmaster replied cheerfully.

With a visible grimace that did little justice to the feeling of frustration that had been building within him, Seto readjusted his position in his chair once again. Bringing a halt to the jittery drum beat his fingers had been beating he caught the elderly wizards eyes and began to relate the hazy memories of the night previous.

"We had been waiting for quite some time in position, Yuugi and myself were hidden together. Moody across the street from us – Weasley to our left and Snape further up the street. The Pharaoh was asking questions, it seems the concept of silence is lost on him."

Pausing only briefly to brush a wayward strand of hair out of his eyes he continued, "he was asking about the ritual and what it entailed – so I told him. The Death Eaters must have arrived some time while I was explaining to him, because the next thing we knew they were looking through the bushes. They knocked Moody unconscious almost immediately – as if they knew he was there already."

For a moment Seto paused, noting the concentration that Dumbledore was suddenly wearing with interest before resuming.

"Then they started trying to knock Weasley out – he fought back for several minutes before he too was knocked out. That was when we realized that one of them had managed to get behind us, he had Mutou at wand point and told us to move. It was strange.. Almost as if they already knew where we were before they got there."

At this Dumbledore's forehead furrowed considerably and he spoke carefully, as though he were passing onto dangerous territory, "you think that those Death Eaters knew there would be members of the Order there that night?"

It was Set who answered, not even bothering to wait for Seto to answer he replied coldly, "I am sure of it."

Dumbledore's eyes darkened in troubled thought and he glanced between the two briefly before asking carefully, "did they say or act suspiciously at all?"

"When Set took over – he took control of the Death Eaters mind and forced him to return to the others and tell them he hadn't found anything. We watched as they dragged Moody and Weasley into the middle of the street – and one of them mentioned that it wasn't likely that 'they' would only send two to take care of them. They also mentioned an ambush."

Dumbledore seemed to sink within his chair, his eyes darkening with obvious disappointment as he let out a sigh, "they learned of our plans. They knew that there would be members of the Order of the Phoenix at that location – and they must have known that there would be more following Lucius Malfoy. Voldemort was one step ahead of us once again.. Though why they took your friend Ishtar instead of Remus is troubling.. Remus knows far more about the Order."

Seto raised an eyebrow and shook his head sharply, "they did not want a member of the Order of the Phoenix. They wanted Ishtar – they were hunting him back in Egypt as well. They killed his sister."

Set's eyes darkened as he leaned heavily against the back of Seto's chair, one of his hands idly toying with the collar of Seto's jacket as he declared darkly, "you have a traitor in your midsts."(**6**)

Dumbledore shook his head with a sigh, his long silver hair catching the gleam of candle-light before he waved a hand almost dismissively, "that is a topic for further contemplation at a later date. For now let us continue with what happened last night. If you would Mister Kaiba?"

Swatting the spirits hand away from his collar, Seto frowned, his lip curling in faint hesitation before he resumed the story, "they were talking about an ambush and then one of them kicked Weasley."

For a moment Albus Dumbledore paused, his eyes turning with curiosity upon Seto as he suddenly halted. For a moment the Headmaster thought he saw confusion slip passed the tight grip that the elder Kaiba had upon his expression before it reverted to its usual stoic facade.

"I don't know why," he abruptly murmured, breaking the silence that held and raising Dumbledore's eyes back to study his face.

"But.. I knew that if I let a single one of them escape that it would be a costly mistake," blue eyes shone humorlessly as he let out a cold and impersonal quiet laugh that made Set frown faintly.

He plowed on ruthlessly, as though he knew that if his thoughts should catch up with his words he wouldn't speak them at all, "so I tried to regain control of my body. But something happened – it was as if.. I was.. We were both in control. But at the same time.."

"Not?"

A brief curl of Seto's lips was all the answer that Albus Dumbledore seemed to need, "do you remember anything after that? What it felt like perhaps?"

Seto's eyes glittered darkly as his lips twisted, "it felt as if I was being burned from the inside out."

Something in the wizards eyes changed abruptly, as though a light had suddenly switched on behind them and their stare seemed to intensify as he leaned towards Seto, half-moon glasses slipping further down his nose.

"Burned?" was the question that came out as barely more than a whisper, "do you know what it was exactly that you felt..?"

The answer came without the slightest moment of hesitation, "it was power. Complete, _pure_ power."

If Seto's answer surprised the Headmaster he did not show it, for a brief gleam of triumph was all that surfaced upon his face before he questioned sharply, "have you ever experienced this feeling before?"

It seemed that any hesitation had dwindled away quickly as Seto's business-persona roared into life, complete with an elevation of his chin and shine of pride that stabbed through blue eyes with a ferocity that would have made most any other man cower and a devil-may-care curl of his lips, "many times."

An elbow dug sharply into Seto's collarbone and the elder Kaiba cast a faintly miffed glare in the direction of his other half (which only succeeded in him rolling his eyes upward in a manner that made Dumbledore stifle a chuckle) before adding rather stiffly, "although I have only felt _exactly _the same twice before. Once in Diagon Alley when I was attacked by a bounty hunter, the other when we rescued Ishtar - when I summoned the Blue Eyes White Dragon."

There was a pause in which Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with open curiosity before he murmured softly, "the blue eyes?"

Seto deftly removed his dueling deck from his coat pocket. His eyes fixed firmly upon Dumbledore's face he began to systematically shuffle through the cards, each flick of the wrist a testament to the skill that had developed over years of practice. He didn't even deem to look as he abruptly plucked a card from the top of the pile, flipped it over and slid it across the desk to the headmaster.

His expression didn't change as the wizard cast a faint smile of amusement at him before peering through his half-moon glasses at the beautifully detailed form that twined sinuously through the image. When Dumbledore's eyes lifted to meet Seto's once again there was a pause before he murmured aloud, "it's a card game."

A low chuckling filled Seto's ears and he jumped at the warm breath that brushed his neck. Blue eyes turned in dark glare towards the offending spirit as he unwrapped his arms from Seto's shoulders and rose to his full height to observe the headmaster with an air of faint condescension. He cocked his head to one side, dark eyes alight with amusement as he spoke, "I'm beginning to wonder what History it is that they teach at that school of yours."

A smile accompanied the good humored response, "in the nature of history – only that which is remembered."

Set's lips quirked almost imperceptibly before he turned upon his heel and began to pace the floor behind Seto's chair. On his first turn he began to recite aloud to his awaiting audience in a practiced tone, "long ago when the world was young, Egyptian Kings and Sorcerers played games of great and terrible power.."

Seto raised an eyebrow questioningly as he interrupted with a scathing, "so you're a _great _sorcerer now are you?"

The spirit paused momentarily to fix a glare upon his reincarnation before resuming his speech.

"These games served as magical ceremonies to foretell the fortunes of men and kings – and even to change a persons fate. They were known as the Shadow Games."

Set halted in his speech once again to cast a quelling glare at Seto whose lips had thinned at the use of the word 'fate' and was now following Set through decidedly skeptical blue eyes.

"But there was something about these Games that those Sorcerers did not know – for everything in this world comes with a price, and the power that they received in these games was so tremendous that they did not, at first, notice the changes as they came. The ability to summon the Shadows came at a terrible price – for from the Shadows were born terrible Monsters of tremendous power."

The spirit paused in his pacing once again, his face strangely solemn as he stared at the palms of his hands as though caught in some long lost memory. "Those monsters were born of something far darker then that realm of shadows as we so foolishly presumed.."

No amusement could be found in the High Priests voice now, his face was stripped of anything other than a strange bitter sting in his dark eyes that turned to focus upon Albus Dumbledore's solemn face.

"They were born of the human soul. They were.. a mockery of the human soul – their wielders in their most distorted and true form. And what we saw, when we realized what it was that we had so foolishly done, frightened us all beyond comprehension."

Another twist of his lips had a painfully forced smile appear upon his face, his eyes fixed firmly upon the man who continued to stare at him without anything other than compassion.

"That.. Card game that you hold now. It is a distortion of a game so awful – so terrible that the Pharaoh had to sacrifice blood and flesh and soul to seal it away from the world. A game that was hidden deep below the surface of the new world, away from memory, in a place where man would not dare to look -"

Set paused, a suddenly thoughtful expression touching his face before a wry smile touched his lips and he raised an eyebrow pointedly in Seto's direction as he tacked on, "unless they were looking to break into the lucrative gaming industry that is."

Dumbledore's lips quirked in response, his eyes glittering with amusement as Seto's eyes snapped with anger and he sneered back, "you are well aware that it was _Pegasus _who released it as a game Set."

A soft snort echoed, "says the former-World Champion.."

Seto let out a disgusted groan and rolled his eyes in exasperation,"oh _bite _me."

Set's eyes perked up considerably and he opened his mouth to reply, a wicked smirk already falling into place as he draped himself over the back of Seto's chair once again before he was cut off by someone clearing their throat decidedly loudly.

Both pairs of near-identical eyes turned towards the elderly Wizard and met his decidedly amused expression.

"I think we have gotten somewhat off track, have we not Mister Kaiba?"

Even as Seto moved to nod his agreement with another attempted glare in Set's direction a hesitant knocking on the door behind him sounded.

Dumbledore seemed to have been expecting someone, for he merely smiled at Seto's questioning look and called out, "come in."

The door was pushed somewhat hesitantly open and the dark tousle-haired head of a dubious looking Harry Potter appeared in the gap. Green eyes took in Seto and Set before moving onwards to meet Dumbledore's crystal-blue eyes with open curiosity.

"You wanted to see me Professor?"

Dumbledore's lips curled in a welcoming smile and he waved Harry inside, "yes of course, come in. Have a seat -"

The elderly wizard waved his wand almost distractedly and a heavy armchair appeared in mid-air quite suddenly to fall with a thud to the floor beside Seto's own chair. With a bemused look the Boy Who Lived closed the door behind him and strode over to take the seat.

Seto's eyes moved from the quite sturdy armchair (that bore a strong resemblance to one that had previously vacated a space in the Living Room) to the boy sitting in it. The cold impersonal assessment that he took of the Boy Who Lived was enough to make Harry shift uncomfortably in his chair and direct his stare firmly towards the Headmaster.

"I wished to speak to the both of you about a matter that concerns you both greatly."

"The prophecy," Harry surmised with a shrewd smile.

Even as Dumbledore nodded his acknowledgment, Seto scoffed softly beneath his breath.

Slightly bemused, Harry turned curious green eyes upon Seto before watching with amusement as Dumbledore peered at the elder Kaiba through his half-moon glasses, "was there something you wished to say Mister Kaiba?"

Harry caught sigh of Set waving one hand frantically and miming the word '_don't!_' out of the corner of his eye and blinked in surprise before turning his eyes back to Seto to watch.

Seto's lips curled with disdain as he bit out, "_prophecies_ are for the weak-minded who need to believe that they have some higher purpose in life than their boring everyday lives."

Harry listened with startled bemusement, his eyes catching upon the grimace of frustration that had slowly spread across the High Priests face. Green eyes shifted curiously towards the Headmaster and he found his lips curling in a faint smile. Dumbledore looked as though he was rather enjoying himself.

The High Priest was surprisingly the first to respond, his eyes darkening momentarily as he growled out, "fore-sight, omote, is one of the oldest branches of magic still in existence. Destiny is not a figment of the imagination – it is a force that everyone faces, whether they _believe _it or not."

Seto lent back in his chair, swelling in presence with the accomplished ease of a seasoned actor, his eyes glittered with derisive amusement as he met the fierce stare of his counterpart staring down at him.

"_Destiny_, as you call it Set, is _life. _It is up to the individual to take control and shape it. The _strong _forge their own paths in life – only the weak do as they are told. The _question_ isn't of what is written in the stars or what some hag thought she saw in the bottom of her morning cup of tea – it's of _power_ and whether you're willing to use it to achieve your end. '_Men at some time are masters of their fates: the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings._'"(**7**)

Harry turned his head slowly from Seto towards Dumbledore, who was observing the former with a thoughtful expression, his eyes gleaming with something that looked almost like pleasure. But Harry's eyes had darkened as words returned to him that seemed so very similar to what it was that the elder Kaiba was saying.

Without even realizing what he was doing he spoke the words aloud, his eyes fixed with sudden ferocity upon Seto as he said them, "there is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it."

Harry's eyes didn't leave Seto's face as he added darkly in what sounded almost like an accusation, "that is what Quirrell said to me – when he was trying to convince me to give him the Philosopher's Stone."

"There is evil," was the sharp voice from behind them, "just as there is good and a great deal of grey area in between, But power is what this world is built upon. Power is what makes you who _you _are. It's why the man sitting in front of you is who _he _is. It is why the Pharaoh – and even you omote, will always be hunted by those weaker than yourselves. Because you _have _it – and _they_ need it."

"It's the difference between Kings and Pawns. It is why _you _will be remembered and your friends and all those who fight and die in this war will not. It is why your world fears to speak the mere _name _of one man for fear of the ruin it will bring down upon them."

Set rose to stand at his full height, his eyes fixed upon Harry with a dark stare that was almost eerie in its intensity, "it is why in the end it will _always_ be you or him – no matter how hard they try to protect you." (**8**)

Stark silence followed Set's announcement, as Harry stared numbly from Set to Dumbledore as though questioning him with a mere look. But when Harry turned back to look at the spirit he was gone and only Seto remained, his face belying a curious expression as he stared down at a book lying in his lap.

Without warning Seto abruptly began to chuckle to himself, a cold mirthless sound that made Harry's skin crawl even as he watched the elder Kaiba fan the pages of the book open and shut before raising his eyes to turn upon Dumbledore abruptly.

"I see what it is that you are thinking with all this talk of prophecies and power."

The wisened Wizards eyes softened behind his half-moon glasses and his face was suddenly solemn, ".._ A novel needs a hero_, Mister Kaiba. If what I have learned about this prophecy is true.. If you are one of those that it speaks of.."

Seto's eyes flashed sharply and he stood abruptly in his seat, one hand clutching the novel tightly between his fingers.

"I am sorry to disappoint – but I'm no hero, old man. Why don't you try Mutou – that's more up_ his_ alley."

Seto moved briskly, cradling the novel in his hand and maneuvering his way past his chair and back to the door. Without a backward glance he slipped through the door and closed it with a snap behind him.

For a brief moment Albus Dumbledore stared after him in silence, the smallest of smiles touching his face before muttering to himself, "I think there's more hero in you, Seto Kaiba, than you'd ever let yourself believe."

For a few moments Harry stared in silence at his Professor, who continued to stare at the closed door with that same expression upon his face.

So absorbed in his own thoughts was Harry that he jumped when Dumbledore abruptly spoke to him, "so Harry, did you learn anything from Mister Kaiba's speeches?"

"You mean aside from the fact that him and that spirit are both obsessed with power?"

Crystal blue eyes crinkled in the corners with hidden mirth and Dumbledore shook his head, a faint smile touching his lips, "yes. Apart from that."

Harry paused, green eyes lost in thought before he hesitantly shook his head.

"The point that Mister Kaiba made, quite fiercely I must admit, is that there is _always _a choice in what we do with our futures Harry, nothing is ever certain."

For a moment the Boy Who Lived paused, his mind working furiously before he spoke slowly, confusion evident in his voice, "but the Prophecy said -"

Dumbledore's expression softened and he shook his head of silver hair with a faint smile, "I see.. A discussion that is perhaps best left for another time then."

Harry's eyes scrunched up slightly as though he were going to debate the point before shaking it off in favor of pausing, before hesitantly asking, "Professor.. Why do you think Kaiba is so determined not to believe in destiny?"

Crystal eyes studied Harry's face with a solemn expression before he spoke, his voice softened with a touch of sympathy, "one of the hardest things in this world, Harry, is simply to believe."

"To believe in something you have no proof of and simply _trust _that it exists requires a huge amount of faith. For a person like Seto Kaiba, who has had very little to believe in since he was a very small child, it is the hardest choice he will ever have to make."

* * *

"So.. What'd Dumbledore want?"

Harry paused, glancing towards the youngest Weasley brother with a faint grimace as he collapsed upon the arm-chair nearest the couch upon which his best friends were currently sitting playing chess.

Not for the first time, Hermione was losing abysmally.

Casting a half-glance in the direction of the other couch, or more specifically, the supposedly sleeping form of Otogi Ryuuji who was stretched out upon the other couch Harry frowned and muttered, "Kaiba was there."

"Really?" Hermione murmured thoughtfully, watching with a faint grimace as Ron's knight brutally took out her bishop.

"Yeah. He must have been talking to Dumbledore about something – when I came in he changed the subject."

Harry's nose wrinkled thoughtfully as he lent back in his chair and absentmindedly ruffled the back of his hair in an action that made Hermione shoot a glance in Ron's direction with amusement. The red-head however, seemed completely oblivious.

"There's something.. Strange about them. Kaiba and that spirit I mean."

Ron snorted loudly and replied, "Kaiba's got issues alright.."

Hermione's eyes shot frantically over her shoulder and she let out a hiss of, "_Ron!_" as Otogi's form shifted languidly on the couch.

The youngest Weasley brother grinned to himself and shrugged, "what? It's true.."

With a moan of what appeared to be disgust mixed with irritation and a trace of amusement Hermione shook her head and turned her eyes instead upon Harry, "go on Harry."

"Well Dumbledore brought up the Prophecy. You know, the one that they were talking about at the Order meeting, and Kaiba started ranting about destiny -"

What sounded suspiciously like a snort came from the couch harboring Otogi and Harry paused briefly but when nothing else came of it he continued.

"He said something about, '_men at some time are masters of their fates.._'"

Hermione's eyes widened somewhat and she carried on from where Harry had trailed off with only a brief hesitation, "_the fault, dear Brutus, is not in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings._"

Ron stared at her blankly.

"It's Shakespeare – why on earth was he quoting Shakespeare?"

Harry shrugged, readjusting his glasses as he slumped back into his chair and continuing, "then that spirit.. Set.. Started talking about power.. You should have _heard _him. He said something like, '_it's why in the end it will be you or him – no matter how hard they try to protect you_.'"

Ron blinked at Harry for several moments before leaning forwards and in a distinctly softer voice than he had used before he muttered, "thats right creepy that is. You don't think that he knows about what the prophecy said do you? You know.. About you and You-Know-Who."

Harry shook his head and frowned, "no. I asked Dumbledore after he'd left if he knew.. He said that he hadn't told anyone other than me.. And I've only told you and Hermione. How could he have known?"

Ron shrugged in response, the chess match now forgotten as he turned his attention upon Harry in full.

"When I was talking to Bill earlier he said that Kaiba was the one who saved him and Moody from the Death Eaters, apparently he went completely ballistic. Four Death Eaters dead on the spot.. The other two were out of their minds, talking absolute gibberish.. You don't think.. That Kaiba's a dark wizard do you?"

Harry was _sure _that that was a snort.

Hermione's eyes rolled and she smacked Ron deftly over the head.

"Do you _really _think that Dumbledore would let a _dark wizard _into the Order? That he would let him stay in the same _house _as Harry and do as he likes? Come _on _Ron.. I'm the first to admit that Kaiba isn't a _pleasant _guy, but I'm just glad that he's on _our _side."

What started out as a snort soon turned into what appeared to be uncontrollable laughter, causing all three heads to turn towards where Otogi Ryuuji was now clutching at his stomach gasping for air, tears of laughter streaming down his cheeks.

"_Kaiba.. _Wizard... Dark side.. '_he's on our side!_' God.. I haven't laughed so hard in.."

A loud thump echoed around the room as the Game Creator toppled off of the sofa and continued to laugh, his hands thumping the ground.

"I _knew _he wasn't sleeping," Ron muttered distractedly shooting a dark look at the deliriously laughing Otogi.

"I don't think he's playing with a full deck.." Hermione murmured behind her hands to Ron, in an attempt to quell the nasty flush of red that had begun to creep up his neck.

All her efforts received, however, was a blank stare and a sneer of, "and what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Hermione sighed and hissed back, "I think he might be just a bit.."

"Crazy?"

Three pairs of eyes turned towards a decidedly flushed looking Remus Lupin who was leaning in the doorway, an oddly glazed expression on his face and a strange smile upon his lips.

Otogi's laughing came to a halt and he paused, looking up at the wizard with a faint frown as he wiped tear-trails from his cheeks with the backs of his hands. "_Excuse_ me?"

Remus' lips curled jovially and he stepped in, a definite sway to his walk as he sank cheerfully onto the couch that Otogi had vacated before leaning conversationally towards the Game Creator. "They," he gestured in the trio's direction with a flourish, "think you're crazy."

Another thoughtful smile touched his lips.

"I don't blame them myself.."

Hermione stared in horror as Lupin abruptly began to laugh to himself as though he had made a marvelous joke.

"Professor are you alright?"

The werewolf flashed Hermione a brilliant smile and extended a hand to help Otogi up off of the floor. The Game Creator eyed it warily before accepting the boost and being hauled – rather more forcefully than had been anticipated – off of the floor and towards the couch.

"..Hermy – Herm.. _Hermione. _How many times do I have to tell you to call me Remus?"

Harry turned incredulous green eyes towards Ron and Hermione as the red-head suddenly choked out, "Professor are you _drunk_?"

For a moment Lupin seemed to consider this before smiling broadly, "it's a possibility.."

He paused, glancing from Harry to Otogi with fascination before declaring loudly, "you look _just _like him."

Looking none to pleased with this declaration the Game Creator tried valiantly to get out of the way but to no avail, as the Werewolf suddenly clasped him in a hug that made the origins of his sudden friendliness all too apparent.

"_Definitely_ drunk," he ground out as he attempted to prise the werewolf's arms off of him.

"At least he's a friendly drunk," Ron interjected helpfully.

Otogi's lip curled in dismay as he persisted in attempting to break free, "oh yeah.. Thats of great comfort thanks."

The Game Creator nearly fell of the couch again when the werewolf abruptly released him and sank back into his seat with a content sigh. After a moment he offered a wide smile around at the somewhat bewildered stares of his former-students and the decidedly disgruntled Otogi.

"I think I like him this way – thats the first time I've see him smile all summer," Ron declared abruptly and received another sharp slap across the back of the head courtesy of Hermione.

With a meaningful glare in Ron's direction the witch turned her head back towards the pleasantly smiling Lupin slowly, "Remus? Are you.. I mean, are you sure you're alright?"

A quaint smile was all the response she got from the werewolf who had taken to rummaging through his pockets in a decidedly distracted manner. When he triumphantly produced a small hip-flask from his pockets, Otogi decided to take matters into his own hands.

"I don't think that you need anymore of whatever the hell it is you've been drinking," the Game Creator muttered decisively as he snatched the flask out of Lupin's hands before taking a thoughtful swig for himself.

After a moment in which his throat burned and the werewolf stared blankly at his hands, Otogi quickly screwed the lid of the flask back on and tucked it into one of his jacket pockets, pointedly ignoring the incredulous stares of the trio on the other side of the room.

Turning amused vivid green eyes upon the clustered wizards and witch he leaned forwards, batting away one of the Werewolf's hands that was destined for his jacket and one eyebrow rose expressively as lips curled with obvious amusement, "so, tell me more about this theory of yours about Kaiba being a dark wizard – I could do with a good laugh. Or wait – what was it you said, _'I'm glad he's on our side_.'"

Without warning the Game Creator crowed with laughter again, slapping one of the werewolf's hands away again as it went in search of the stolen flask.

"May I ask," Harry muttered sharply with his own eyes fixed firmly upon the laughing figure upon the couch, "what it is that you find so funny about that?"

Otogi's eyes gleamed as he sank into the couch in perfect disarray, one of his legs hooking over the armrest as his arms stretched out over the back of the couch, moving with the effortless grace which seemed to come naturally to him.

He cast an amused look of disinterest at the wall-paper, rubbing a finger over the faded pattern with mimed interest as though finding it a damn-sight more interesting then the question that had been presented to him – just when the trio thought that he was looking to ignore them completely he replied with a wicked smile, his voice all but dripping with , "Kaiba's on nobody's side but his own little kiddies."

At the proffered stares he received his eyes glittered with sardonic amusement and he clucked his tongue loudly, cocking his head to the side and leaning deftly away from another attempt at the raiding of his jacket pockets from the Werewolf. His tone was chiding as he lent conspiratorially towards the trio and added in a staged whisper, "you didn't honestly think that he was helping you out of the goodness of his ooey-gooey glowing golden heart now did you? This is _Kaiba_ we're talking about – I'm telling you now, he's got his own reasons for helping you."

Vivid green eyes shot to the side as a long fingered hand seized hold of the wrist that had gotten far too close to their prize. Lips turned a sharp angle in his face as he raised an eyebrow pointedly at the decidedly sleepy looking stare that the werewolf gave him in response.

"It's all _Snivellus' _fault," was the decidedly distracted mutter as Lupin slumped back into the couch, amber eyes turning thoughtfully towards Otogi as he chewed on his lip in frustration, "he shouldn' talk 'bout James.."

With a sigh the former-Professor slumped in his seat, not seeming to notice the odd stiffness that coursed through the Game Creators body, or the way that his entire demeanor seemed to suddenly change within the blink of an eye.

Without a word Otogi was on his feet and stalking towards the door, moving with a grace that was strangely familiar to the trio who watched him with blatant curiosity.

With single-minded focus the Game Creator stalked through the hallway, passing the staircase without a single glance at Yuugi and Ryou as they descended, talking in barely more than whispers.

Upon catching sight of the Game Creator Yuugi lifted his head and blinking called out, "Otogi-kun.. What are you..?"

When the Game Creator merely stalked on passed, by all appearances completely ignoring the pair, they exchanged confused glances and hurried down the rest of the steps to follow him.

"Is it just me or is he.." Ryou began softly with an inquiring look in Yuugi's direction.

The King of Games offered a smile, "possessed? I think so."

They followed as the Game Creator threw open the kitchen door with suitable dramatics, his eyes flashing as he crossed the room with graceful sweeping strides to where a decidedly irate Severus Snape was declaring loudly to an indulgently smiling Albus Dumbledore, " - Filch assures me that Peeves was on the third floor at the _exact _same time pulling apart the suits of armor. There is something messing up my dungeons - "

The Potions Masters words were cut off sharply as he was seized by the robes and shoved harshly up against the kitchen cupboards, to the bewilderment of both the Headmaster and wizard in question.

Snape was the first to recover, his black eyes filling with rage as he snarled out, attempting to brush the Game Creators hands off of him, "what is the meaning of this?"

"Listen up _Snivellus,_" was the snarl that seemed to echo a voice that was all to familiar to the Potions Master as the Game Creators face was pressed only centimeters away from that of the man he was threatening, "if I find out you've upset him again you will not _live _to regret it."

For a moment Snape thought that he could see a flash of storm-tossed blue eyes and a haunted aristocratic face before it was gone. The hands that had been gripping the front of the Potions Masters robes released him in sudden bewilderment as the presence that had flooded Otogi suddenly deserted him.

Vivid green eyes widened considerably as he stepped backwards, ignoring the snarl that Snape suddenly released of, "_Black,_" in favor of taking a long swig from his pilfered flask.

"Otogi?"

Large amethyst eyes turned upon the decidedly confused and disoriented Game Creator as he sunk into a kitchen chair and stared blankly at the wizard he had been threatening.

Snape's eyes whirled upon Dumbledore with fury apparent, "everything that _he_," a hand jerked in the direction of a decidedly bewildered Ryou, "said is true. It's _Black._"

Albus Dumbledore's eyes widened with apparent amusement, his lips curling into a benign smile as he sucked upon a decidedly sticky Sherbet Lemon.

"So it would appear." (**9**)

* * *

**Footnotes**:  
**1**. Just a piece of trivia for those of you playing at home – I do believe this is the first time Seto has showered in this story**.  
2**. Ah yes, good time to elaborate on the HBP situation. I will be incorporating the facts into this story – that is in part, why I chose to base this story in Harry's summer holidays, to enable a bit more freedom in how I worked it. Expect to see tidbits from the book showing up every now and then**.  
3**. Don't get huffy – I happen to be of the opinion that Remus would actually show_ some _reaction to the death of his friends. One of the things that I tend to disagree with JK about.. That and the Tonks situation. **  
4**. For some reason this continues to make me grin..  
**5**. The novel mentioned being, '_Notes from the Underground,_'Dostoyevsky, Fyodor.  
**6**. That they do indeed..  
**7**. You'd really think they would have learned by now wouldn't you? And the Shakespeare quote resurfaces!  
**8. **And once again Set makes sure that Dumbledore knows exactly where they stand.  
**9**. And another piece of the Sirius Black puzzle slots into place, with traces of another hovering in the background.

* * *

**AN: **And after a long delay, the next chapter arrives. All 20 pages of it.. I couldn't believe how long this was getting, originally I had another whole scene to put in this chapter but it was simply too much. I'm still in denial regarding the ending of the Half-Blood Prince and I do believe thats why there was so much involvement of a certain two characters in this chapter. Once again it looks like I'm going to have to extend the fix by another chapter or so as some of the content from this one had to be moved. Buggar it. Oh well, hopefully you enjoyed. Right, onto writing the _next _chapter.

**Night-Owl123: **Not so sure about the 'soon' but here's an update.  
**Shiny-Chan: **Ah, good to hear that you enjoyed it. Otogi's possession will become more clear as we go on, but for a clearer understanding you might wanna re-read Ryou's description of what happens to the soul once it passes through the altar. It should make it clearer as to what happened. Of course there's lots of smirking – we're talkin' bout Kaiba here – and you are absolutely right about the Dragon.  
**Phoenixfire1389: **You can expect a whole lot more chaos in upcoming chapters.. Especially when things start to really get moving and a certain 'forgotten' character rears their ugly head.  
**Samuraiduck27: **I shan't say a word on what happened with Kaiba as it'll become clearer later – but we can safely assume that yes, Otogi is being possessed by Sirius – and Snape isn't happy about it.  
**Suteneko-chan**: Ah! You have discovered the gaping plot-hole that I was _sure _I had covered up. In order for the plot to continue we shall spackle it up and pretend you never noticed. I shall let you assume that, yes, all of our Japanese/Egyptian characters _are _just that damn cool that they can speak English without requiring to learn it. Perhaps they've discovered the Babble Fish.. You may continue to muse over what Otogi means.. For now I shall remain silent on the matter.  
**A lilmatchgirl: **Ah, I can only say that should you re-read Ryou's speech on what happens to the soul after it is split by the Veil you might have a better understanding. I don't hate Malik – I just love Yami no Mariku.. And whoops shouldn'ta said that. There are some things that simply have to happen for dear little Malik to be of any use to Kaiba and Co.  
**PrEtTyStUpIdGiRl: **Glad you think so too – Set would make an interesting Jedi Knight at the very least. Very swish.  
**Darkdaisy: **Oh yes.. I've been waiting to burn that portrait down for many a chapters and it seemed only fitting that Lupin got to do the damage.  
**Mokuba's Official Glomper: **Cheers for the review. Seems I'm delving into Kiwi-Speak again, must remember not to do that.  
**WindWitch: **I actually did a _lot _of research for this story into the Egyptian myths – more than was probably healthy actually. Anzu and Shizuka have their own place back in Domino – they're all where they are for a reason. Don't worry. It's all part of the grand plan.  
**Lily of the Shadow: **We'll see what happens to Malik – and lets just say it won't be pretty.  
**Eden's Echo: **Well since you asked so very nicely I'll fill you in on a few details before the official release. Remember that Charlie is part of the order, Dumbledore is head of the Order, Dumbledore was at Otogi's trial, Seto an Co let slip that they knew Otogi, Charlie didn't just come trundling over from Romania for a family holiday. Savvy? You're taking in all of the little hints I'm leaving about the Malik thing – this chapter should clear any other questions up for ya. 'Cept of course for the grand, "What the hell is happening to Malik?" As for Shaadi.. Let's just say that he's not quite so absent as we might think, he dropped Malik off in London with a purpose.  
**Kyia Star: **As we've already debated your review to pieces I'll simply say, hope you enjoyed the new chapter and feel free to renew any new debates you have.  
**Achika:** I'd like to take a moment to thank god for you! You put all of the clues I've given together and got it absolutely correct before I even had to explain it. THANK GOD! You are, indeed, awesome. Good to hear that Otogi-dear has got some support! I imagine Sirius _would _like being good looking again after all that time in Azkaban. Not to mention that the free ticket out of there would have been a bonus.. Look out for the big Otogi story coming next chapter.  
**The Violent Tomboy: **Glad to hear you enjoyed it – and an update.  
**Skycat: **Glad to hear that little Kleidon is appreciated – I was having some doubts about whether to involve him or not. Hopefully your obsession is recovering nicely in its little padded cell – I'd send a fruit basket but the grapes would turn into raisins by the time they arrived; and I don't care what anybody says, _nobody _deserves Raisins**.  
Ciardra: **Oh yes, Otogi's going to be _lots _of fun. Two out of two for your guesses. You're getting far too good at this for my own good. I can just _see _Seto with his very own dragon in the backyard.. How sweet. It would certainly keep the press away from his front door.. I can't say a word on the 'possession' issue. You are definitely way too good at this – let's just say that the spotlights on, the audience have arrived and they're all hankering for a bit of spiky-headed goodness. And yes, I am _very _proud of Remus for his sudden pyro act**.  
Queen of the Paperclips: **Much applause, you got the dragon absolutely right and Sirius is on his way to resurrection! Viva la Sirius. I completely agree with you about Seto – he'll _never_ be a big girly pants.. Lets leave that to the professionals folks! -cough-DanCarter-Cough**-  
Crystalstorm: **Yes.. Poor, dear Malik just can't keep himself out of trouble – but then again, he's very good at getting himself back out of it again. All just as well I suppose**.  
Jak'idiot: **Otogi is for all occasions – but yes, he does have a purpose to serve and I do feel bad for putting poor Mokuba through all that I do. He's such a good little snot**..  
LovingKitten: **Ah, I'll just have to coddle Otogi for the both of us then. Glad you think I've got Mokuba down, it's a comfort to think I've got at least one of the characters personalities right**.  
Sevter: **Another Kaiba + Dragon scene, just for you.  
**Yuki Tsukihana:** Cue the psychopaths.. I think I can hear them banging around in the background waiting for next chapter. And we welcome to the stage...  
**Cor-chan:** Good to hear – hopefully all the plot-weaving will come together in the end.  
**Captain-Inuyusha777:** Ah you made me all glowy. Have been writing as fast as possible, but this chapter was being decidedly stubborn about how it wanted to come out.  
**Azrail Liddell:** Oh yes, the psychopath extraordinaire may make an entrance.. Rather soon.. **  
Chelley Angel: **Poor Malik indeed.. Stuck with Bellatrix Lestrange**.  
Rima: **Maintain the enthusiasm – they want Malik for a reason and it will all become clear _very _soon. And yes.. Otogi _is _that damn cool**.  
Nachzez Black-Rider: **Good to hear you appreciated dear Kleidon.. He appreciates the love. Truly he does. And yeahp he lives with _me. _I feel rather badly for little Mokuba.. He gets rather the raw deal a lot of the time**.  
Viva Rose: **If I get that kind of reaction every time I update I might just have to do it more often! **  
BH: **It's always advisable to re-read stuff if you don't understand, though its most likely that the stuff you aren't understanding is stuff that I'm purposefully leaving in the blank zone. Yes.. "Defenestration" is the kind of word that would appeal to Kaiba isn't it.. I don't quite know where I stumble across words like that, they seem to just pop into my vocabulary. It's strange.. **  
Dartz'LoyalServant: **Kaiba and Set.. Oh yes. You can take it any way you like at the moment. And yes – Mokuba _does _have scolding privileges after what Seto'd been doing. **  
QueenofGames2: **Ah lovely – another clue that has been deciphered. Very, very good Detective Ma'm. I wouldn't want to be the Death Eaters at the moment – they're about to face something that _they _hadn't counted on. Because despite all appearances – Malik isn't simply going to be left to deal with them on his own**.  
Sanjuno Shori Niko: **There we go – another update for your reading pleasure.**

* * *

**

"_It's a big rock.. I can't wait to tell my friends - They don't have a rock this big._"

* * *


	22. The Lines of Battle

**Book One of Eight;**

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Twenty** **One-  
**The Lines of Battle.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

He thought that maybe he had awoken within the grip of a nightmare.

A terrible burning had awoken in the depths of his throat, furiously contending with the complaints his lungs were making against air that was thick with the stench of decay and grime.

The wooden floors beneath him were damp with rot and cold to the touch - even through the wool of his borrowed cloak. Goosebumps slithered through his flesh, tingling his skin and drawing a ragged shudder through his limbs.

And for a moment, Malik Ishtar lay frozen on the floor.

Limbs limp with a dreadful weariness that he could only compare to the abominable weakness that had plagued him for days after his final battle atop Seto Kaiba's dueling tower. His eyes were forced fiercely shut in an attempt to hold back their streaming protest.

It had been a long time, he realized with a lurch of grim-nostalgia, since he had been afraid to open his eyes upon awakening.

Lips twitched imperceptibly, eyelids fluttering hesitantly before once again squeezing shut tightly, crushed against the flashes of nothingness that affronted them.

"Perhaps," he spoke aloud, overcome by the sudden urge to hear something other than the soft dripping of water somewhere within the room, "this _is_ a nightmare."

A moment passed and a wry smile twisted upon the Egyptians lips. He gave a soft, cynical little laugh and arms were thrown carelessly out to slap the damp floor, stretching out across the wintry floorboards with a visible shiver. He inhaled a deep and steadying breath, ignoring the thick feeling of stale air in his lungs, before slowly pushing himself into a sitting position and cracking open his eyes.

For several moments he saw nothing at all, his vision swallowed in entirety by the obtrusive darkness. But, guided by younger years spent in the living abyss, lavender eyes slowly adjusted to the light and he found himself able to discern shapes in the murky haze of shadow.

The walls to either side of him strained endlessly upwards, drifting into a sea of anonymity far above him. The space around him was vacant, only a single bulky object pushed into one of the corners not far from where he was sprawled. The Tomb Keeper knew he was hardly an authority on the history of European Architecture – but he felt right down in the marrow of his bones that this place was_ old. _

The very air was twisted with the scent of decay and sparking with magic. It curled through his nostrils, whispered in his ears and carried on his every breath. It thrummed through his blood, dizzying, terrifying – _familiar_.

His breath hitched in his throat, eyes sliding shut as his vision blurred and ice coursed through his veins.

"_Familiar_," he breathed aloud.

He fancied the word echoed back at him, a musical lilt that shadowed and mocked his thought. Did he detect curiosity?

_Maybe_..

"It's just an echo," was his taciturn whisper to the pools of darkness that mocked his sight.

As his vision began to sharpen in the dim light he could pick out details in the darkness – web-like cracks that spread through the yellowed plaster of the walls, the paint on the ceiling was peeling and high, high up on one of the walls were two narrow, grimy windows.

His heart leapt into his throat.

Wider than they were long, they looked as if they had been completely over-taken by ivy on the outside. Only a haze of sickly green light filtered down into the room, hitting the floor in dappled taunting reflections.

Lavender eyes fixed upon the scattered light hungrily,_ imploringly_,and he was crawling, dragging himself over the grimy floorboards to bask within the dim light. His eyes crept shut, his mind cast adrift in a haze of grim triumph that taunted the lurking fingertips of _the_ shadow.

"I don't _need_ you."

Hesitation?

Doubt..

Lavender eyes fixed upon the waning light impulsively.

"I _don't.._"

A whisper, soft in the heavy air that seemed to rise in mocking ovation around him.

Eyes rose hesitantly towards the windows once again. Raising his quivering hands, palm-up, towards the light he could discern the thick layer of grime that blackened his fingers. Fingers shook with agitation, handfuls of woolen cloak forfeited in an attempt to wipe them clean.

'_Yet naught can wipe clean what blackens **your** soul.._'

His spine stiffened, breath hitching painfully in his throat. For what seemed an eternity he fixed his stare upon the grimy windows, transfixed by the back-lit surfaces, mind paralyzed with fear. Fingers twining thick with the worn wool, begrimed by his hands.

Alone, but for the whisper of the darkness, bathed in scraps of dim light the Tomb Keeper shivered in the cold. Plagued by a thought that was equally as chilling as the air that rose goose-bumps on the skin of his bare-arms.

"Where am I?"

* * *

The atmosphere within the kitchen of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place was stretched taught. A rhythm of hushed whispers had struck up a hesitant chorus within the room, leaving an unusually withdrawn Ryuuji Otogi feeling quite out of place. 

_Though_, he recognized with a scrap of consolation, he wasn't the only one.

A few seats away Seto Kaiba was seated, looking thoroughly incensed that he should have been pulled away from his work yet _again_ by Wizarding Affairs. At his side the younger Kaiba brother was perched edgily in his chair. His sneakered feet swinging in agitation through mid-air, curious slate-blue eyes turning slyly upon Otogi whenever he thought that the Game Creator wouldn't notice.

Though, Otogi realized with a burgeoning swell of amusement, _he _wasn't the only one.

In fact, the vast majority of the gathering entourage had been shooting furtive looks in his direction with eyes that all-but burned with curiosity for some time now. There had yet to be an explanation at all as to why they were gathering and Otogi supposed that he had better get used to the staring now. He couldn't even _pretend_ to imagine what it would be like when they discovered he was possessed by a man that was by all rights supposed to be dead – and that was saying something.

After all, Otogi was something of a master when it came to dramatics.

He could hardly _blame_ them though..

A dry smile pulled at his lips as he caught and returned a particularly brazen stare from a suddenly blushing Ginevra Weasley. An eyebrow perked coyly, black tresses ostentatiously slipping over olive skin as he rolled his shoulders in a slow sinuous stretch.

.. If _he_ were anyone else than he'd probably want to stare at him too.

The faint twitch of his lips broadened into the briefest touch of a smirk at the distinctly stormy warning he received from not one, but two, mutinous stares.

Allowing his attention to drift further down the table his eyes hesitantly caught upon the decidedly worse-for-wear Remus Lupin with a faint lurch of his stomach. The wizard had had a mug of steaming black coffee brandished at him by a thoroughly unimpressed Molly Weasley upon entering the room. The Wizard in question had been taking ginger sips at it, amber eyes alternating in their shame-afflicted path between the affronted Weasley matron and a decidedly subdued Harry Potter.

As he watched the werewolf pinched the bridge of his nose and attempted to ignore the amused curiosity of the youngest Weasley brother. Otogi's stomach sunk unpleasantly at the sight and unable to explain_ why_ he felt this sudden fellowship with the elder Wizard he averted his eyes hurriedly.

His mood soared dramatically, however, when the door swung open to admit two of his latest objects of torment.

Bill and Charlie Weasley tramped inside the room, locked in brotherly banter. The former, having a swab of pristine bandages wrapped neatly around his forehead while the latter had his arms stretched stiffly in front of him and was dragging one leg, as though lame, behind him in a droll (and _also_ lame) imitation of a mummy.

Hushed whispers hesitated, replaced with curious amusement as a decidedly miffed Kleidon made a hasty get-away off of the clowning Charlie's shoulder. There was a rending rip of material and the tiny creature was scrabbling, clinging desperately to Seto Kaiba's collar - having tried (and failed) to fly the relatively short distance between the Dragon Keeper and the elder Kaiba.

Watching with open amusement as the second-eldest Weasley brother hurriedly abandoned his imitation in favor of trying to disentangle the snarling baby dragon from the considerably more formidable Kaiba brother, Otogi felt his mood spin upward in a dazzling crescendo.

"You would make a terrible mummy," was the decidedly chilled voice that greeted the Dragon Keeper as faintly translucent hands intercepted his path towards the Dragon.

Charlie back-pedaled in surprise as the High Priest appeared abruptly to deftly grasp the scrabbling hind-legs of the tiny creature and press it carefully onto his ominously glowering reincarnations shoulder. Entirely unsure of just how serious the High Priest was he gave a weak chuckle and was greeted with a quelling dark stare that left him with no questions what-so-ever.

"For _one_," Set's lips curled cruelly, "we would need a corpse."

Blue eyes cracked as Seto turned a slow predatory stare over his shoulder, fingertips grazing the tattered remnants of his collar, before shooting a thin dangerous smile in the Dragon Keepers direction.

"That can be arranged."

Charlie inched backwards impulsively, with a hesitant glance in his brothers direction as though to gage just how seriously to take such a threat when ones aggressor had murder gleaming in their eyes.

"_Two_," Set added with an amused flash of black lacing through his eyes as they turned in Seto's direction, "we would need to remove your organs.. For.. _Preservation_."

A soft malicious whisper from somewhere over Charlie's shoulder whispered, "consider it covered Priest."

The Dragon Keeper jumped visibly, trodding on his elder brothers foot as he hastily moved away from the eerie liquid-sheen of spilled-scarlet that had suddenly emerged from the corner; framed in jagged wisps of silver-woven-white. A demonic grin cut through the Tomb Robbers face with predatory satisfaction at the sudden pallor of their tormentee.

"_Three_," Set's eyes glittered with malicious glee at the widening of Charlie's eyes, "we would need _far _more bandages than-"

The High Priest was cut off with an abrupt hiss of pain and a hand reached slowly for the back of his incorporeal head, eyes darkening moodily as they turned towards the riled vision of his former ruler. The Pharaoh in question stood with eyes blazing fair fire and brimstone, lips twisted in displeasure.

Dark eyes briefly pondered the prospect of continuing his previous sentence, and, almost as if he could sense this, Atemu's nostrils flared like a bull preparing to charge. Set's eyebrows rose in feigned innocence and he did his best to imitate the expression that Mokuba used to such great effect when faced with his reincarnations wrath.

For a moment Atemu's blazing stare faltered, his furrowed brow twitched and his lips slipped from a determined scowl into bewilderment before he let out a snort of amusement.

"Do you _honestly _think that you can pull _that _look on me Set?"

The High Priest, to his credit, lifted his eyebrows slightly higher and widened his eyes imploringly.

Seto looked nothing short of disgusted – Atemu merely frowned disapprovingly.

"I wasn't really _going _to mummify him.."

Charlie noticed that the Tomb Robber looked mildly disappointed. (**1**)

The Pharaoh's lips curved with dissatisfaction and his chin turned upward in a gesture that Set remembered _only_ too well; disappointment.

"That is _hardly_ the point.."

Seto's lip quirked visibly and his eyes gleamed darkly, "_ever _the champion of the insufferably stupid, aren't we Mutou.."

Set attempted vainly to keep the amusement from spilling over onto his face as Atemu bristled visibly, the spirits chuckling rose through Seto's mind and his amused voice was almost gleeful as it echoed through his thoughts, '_very well done omote – look! You made his forehead do that veiny thing_.' (**2**)

Almost simultaneously Atemu and Charlie's protests ripped through the air.

"_Kaiba!_ -"

"Now _hang_ on a minute! -"

A polished chuckle touched the air, effectively cutting the Dragon Keeper's and the Pharaoh's tirades short with an accentuated drag of electric eyes over the Weasley's second-born and a patented raise of a dark eyebrow. Otogi's lips curled in a brief, consolatory smile which was flaunted with brazen wickedness upon the elder Kaiba who turned dark eyes upon him warily.

"No need to be offended, that's simply his defense mechanism."

As the elder Kaiba's shoulders tensed and the tiny-dragon snapped its jaws ominously, Otogi's eyes glimmered mockingly, "the only difference between _him_ and say - a porcupine - is that Kaiba carries _his _barbs upon his tongue instead of his spine."

Otogi almost _felt _his blood chill at the ice that flooded the opposing blue eyes.

"You know what they say," was the frosty response, "_power _is in the tip of the tongue."

The Game Creator paused, wondering absently at the implications of that statement and reading the message that burned in those crackling blue eyes. He saw for that brief moment why it was that Seto Kaiba was so respected (or more notably, _feared_) among the business community and - he hesitated.

A devil's smirk curled across the thinly pressed lips of his opponent and Otogi realized, emerald eyes widening almost undetectably, that in that moment of hesitation he had lost. He could _see_ it in Seto Kaiba's blue eyes.

The elder Kaiba didn't seem to deem elaboration necessary, a marginal twitch of his eyebrow upwards seemed to do the job nicely. The Game Creators green eyes had narrowed considerably and the mocking smile had dissapeared to make room for the decidedly thin line his mouth suddenly formed.

For lingering moments Otogi stared back in defiance of Seto's taunting stare before the elder Kaiba found his vision blocked. Somewhat startled blue eyes fixed upon their slate-blue equivalent. A grimace stole visibly across the elder Kaiba's face at the decidedly unamused expression that had tacked itself onto Mokuba's face.

"'_Nii-sama!_"

If he had been anyone else, Seto Kaiba might have cringed.

"I _thought _that you said you were going to _try _and be less rude!"

Seto took a moment to merely stare at his brother, lips twitching in hidden amusement as he readjusted himself in his seat, one hand absently reaching up to scratch the tiny dragons head.

It seemed that some message had lingered in Seto's eyes for a brief moment as the younger Kaiba bristled visibly, his eyebrows contracting as his frustration grew, "that was _not _trying!"

Seto could have _sworn _he heard someone trying to stifle laughter. A quick assessment showed that _many_ someones of the company present had buried their faces into their hands or reached hurriedly for their drinks. Needless to say, Mokuba was not impressed.

A suitably grumpy scowl surfaced upon the younger Kaiba's lips and he slumped back in his chair with an audible huff of indignation, slate-blue eyes flashing in irritation as they every so often made a brief trek in Seto's direction.

"One of these days I'll disown you.." he warned darkly in Seto's direction.

The elder Kaiba's lips merely quirked with amusement.

There was another huff as a body sunk into the chair next to him and Seto didn't need to look up to see who it was. Instead he watched as Bill and Charlie Weasley both attempted to get seats as far away from Ryuuji Otogi as possible – the Game Creators green eyes had fixed upon them with such intense amusement that Seto found it little wonder.

All assessments of Otogi were cut off however, when the Kitchen door once again swung open and a clunking, cursing individual stumped moodily into the assemble company, followed by a mildly amused looking Albus Dumbledore.

Alastor Moody looked none-the-worse for his near-death encounter the previous night save for perhaps the decidedly foul mood that emanated from his being. The thatch of grizzled grey hair that adorned the top of his disfigured face was disorderly, his one normal eye was blood-shot and shining with irritation and his disfigured mouth was set in a jagged scowl.

For a moment the entire room seemed to hold its breath as Moody's electric blue eye swiveled painfully fast over the assembled company before both eyes fixed upon Seto with a strangely measuring stare. The former-Auror merely let out a strange grunting noise for a moment or two, before he nodded in acknowledgment of the elder Kaiba and made his ungainly way towards one end of the table while Dumbledore sank into a seat at the other.

The whispers that had encompassed the room began to die off under the new presences and with silence the air within the room seemed to shrink. Seto's fingers absently ghosted over Kleidon's head as he turned careful eyes from Dumbledore to the former-Auror with a faint frown.

"No doubt," the headmaster spoke up in a soft voice that drew curious eyes from the occupants of the table, "you have all been informed of something of a _breakthrough_, we might say, in a matter that has caused a great deal of pain amongst our number."

Dumbledore hesitated, his eyes turning from the intensely curious form of Harry Potter to Remus Lupin with what looked like regret closeting his eyes.

"We seem to have located another piece of Sirius Black's soul." (**3**)

A stunned silence swept over the large majority of the Wizards present, not including, Seto noticed with vague interest, Severus Snape. A soft gasp echoed from the seat next to Harry Potter's and Seto turned his attention in that direction to take in the pale face of Hermione Granger and stunned expression upon Ron Weasley's face.

Harry Potter's eyes however, were fixed firmly upon the Game Creator himself.

"_Him?_"

The question was softly spoken, undemanding, yet filled with a dreadful urgency that was almost painful to the ears. Seto found his eyes moving almost automatically to the Boy Who Lived whose green eyes were burning fiercely as they fixed upon the game creator.

If Otogi Ryuuji resented the attention, he certainly didn't show it.

Under the frighteningly intense stares that trained upon him from all over the table he looked remarkably unmoved. If Seto wasn't certain that Otogi was merely enjoying being the center of attention he might have been somewhat impressed by the effort.

"Yes," Dumbledore's voice was decidedly quiet as they turned carefully upon the far-too-quiet Remus Lupin.

The wizard in question had gone stark-white, his eyes fixed stubbornly upon the contents of his steaming mug. His lips were quivering uncertainly and amber eyes that were usually so very in _control _had been overtaken with a preternatural gleam of something. The dregs of alcohol seemed to be fading from his consciousness as quickly as they had been absorbed.

A soft choking breath forced itself from the Boy Who Lived as he had to forcibly tear his eyes from the eerie figure that Ryuuji Otogi made at the table towards the headmaster. The source of what he had always deemed to be inexhaustible knowledge seemed closed to him, yet he tried anyway, his voice barely more than a whisper, "_how?_"

"I was hoping," came the soft reply as subdued crystal-blue eyes swept over the table, "that between us we might just be able to answer that question Harry."

At the other end of the table Remus Lupin's eyes had progressed slowly from his cup of coffee and had now rested upon the Game Creators face. To Seto's vague amusement he noticed that _this, _of all things, seemed to have made Otogi uncomfortable.

"Sirius?"

The voice was soft yet the stare that Remus had pinned upon the Game Creator was anything but.

Otogi near _squirmed _in his chair.

"_Padfoot?_"

A strange tinge of pink touched the Game Creator's cheeks that Seto was _sure_ he had never seen before. (**4**)

"How is it possible? - I mean.. I didn't think that spirits could just _possess _anyone they liked.."

Hermione didn't seem to realize that she'd been speaking aloud until eyes began to turn her way and she turned a shade of pink that rivaled Otogi's new complexion. She gave a discrete cough and attempted to avert her eyes before adding a hasty and decidedly uncertain, "can they?"

A faint brush of amusement touched Dumbledore's lips as he smiled at her, "no Miss Granger. You are quite right. Mister Otogi, it seems, has a unique predisposition towards the supernatural."

The smile twitched marginally wider as he cast an amused glance over the rims of half-moon glasses in Seto's direction, "a _rather _coincidental piece of good luck, wouldn't you say Mister Kaiba?"

"Quite," was the cold and so terribly _untouched _response.

The Headmaster suppressed a chuckle and began to absentmindedly unwrap a sweet between his long spindly fingers. Tongue clucking as he pried his sherbet lemon from its packet Albus Dumbledore's lips quirked further upwards, "yes, yes.. Quite indeed."

"Where was it?"

The question was blurted out in a manner that was completely at odds with Remus Lupin's usual demeanor – enough so to surprise the vast majority of the companies eyes into tearing away from their scrutiny of Otogi Ryuuji.

Concern touched the faces of several Order members as the werewolf fixed an unwavering gaze upon the boy in question, his hands now trembling so badly that his coffee was now slopping in copious amounts down the sides of his mug.

His question was only greeted with uneasy silence, as those in possession of the knowledge that the werewolf was seeking deliberated over the wisdom of releasing it to the already borderline wizard in front of them. The decision was abruptly wrenched from their hands however, for in that moment an undoubtedly familiar voice over-shadowed that of Otogi Ryuuji and gave the blunt answer that the werewolf _needed._

"Azkaban."

The word came out as a rasp, as though it clung to the very throat of the being that it escaped desperately, some internal nightmare that refused to be spoken of in the dying afternoon light.

The hiss of a harsh breath being sucked forcibly into Remus Lupin's lungs was all that followed the declaration, Harry Potter stared unblinkingly at the strange figure that the Game Creator made; unable to shake the imprint of aristocratic features from his mind that seemed to lay like a transparent gloss over the other youth.

It was something of a surprise to the remainder of the table when the werewolf, rather than falling _further_ from the self-control that he was so acknowledged for, took another steadying breath and fixed determined eyes upon the vague haze of his childhood friend that he could _feel _upon the body of the stranger.

"Why? How did it.. How did _you -_?"

A soft growling chuckle escaped the others face and sea-gray eyes glittered with mirth.

"_Thats _the Remus Lupin I remember – next thing I know you'll be dragging out some dusty old volume trying to explain it all.."

Remus' nose wrinkled visibly before he let out a mild chuckle that brought color back to his complexion and lightened the atmosphere within the kitchen considerably, "and _thats _the Sirius Black that I remember – always trying to talk your way around questions that you don't know the answers to."

Lips curled in vague amusement and the possessed-figure lounged back in his chair and raised one eyebrow in a sweeping gesture of casual dismissal, "I try, Moony, I try – and I'd get much further if you'd stop pointing it out to everyone. But as a matter of fact, I _do _know the answer to at least one of your questions."

Remus raised an eyebrow of his own, his detached expression marred by the vivid shine that had entered his eyes the likes of which had been noticeably absent for many years, "oh?"

Sirius' lips curled and he flexed the fingers of one hand thoughtfully in front of his face, "well, actually, its more of an answer to Hermione's question."

The girl in question nearly jumped at her mention and found herself averting her eyes in surprise, not having realized she'd been staring for the past few minutes.

The thoughtful shimmer that lingered in the eyes of the animagus seemed to brighten as he shifted again in his chair, "I'm not entirely sure what happened to me that night in the Ministry, it took a long time for me to recover from the shock I suppose. It was - it _is _painful.. I suppose that that was my soul being torn apart?"

His gaze turned questioningly around the table for a sign of affirmation and received a vague nod from Atemu. Satisfied with that at least the Animagus turned his eyes back to his childhood friend and gave an unconvincing half-smile, "the first thing I knew.. I well, I thought I was having a nightmare. I.. Sometimes had them you know, after Azkaban, where I'd be.."

He trailed off with a glance around the assembled company and seemed to think the better of finishing his sentence upon finding vivid emerald eyes fixed upon him.

"Soon enough I realized that it couldn't be a nightmare, but that I_ was_ back in Azkaban. I thought I might be dead – but that didn't make any sense either. I wasn't – I'm _not_..whole There were.. things missing. I think thats why I'm not dead."

"I don't know how long it took me to figure it out, but after a while I noticed the others there.. _They_ were just hazes of color and sounds until the day they brought the kid in."

An almost fond look crossed the Animagus' face as he absentmindedly drummed long fingers over the tabletop, "I could see him clear as day – and even more so, I could feel that he was resisting the Dementors. They brought him right to my old cell and I knew from the moment that I saw him that he was my ticket out of there."

"It didn't take me long to figure out why it was that I could _see _him and none of the others, the moment that I forced my way into his mind I felt it."

A strange shadow seemed to pass over the Animagus' assumed form as his eyes raked over the assembled company.

"Gypsy blood." (**5**)

* * *

Seto Kaiba was beginning to suspect that he had gone soft. He wasn't sure _why_ or _how _it had happened, but what he _did _know was that he didn't like it. 

Life, Seto thought, had been so much simpler before he had met Yuugi Mutou.

He had been quite effectively detached from the world, its consequences and more than anything; he had _enjoyed _it. The day that Yuugi Mutou had forced his pint-sized presence into his life the entire world had changed – and Seto was not inclined to admit that it was for the better.

Seto wasn't quite sure _what _it was that continued to feed his hostility towards his arch-rival; though he had a feeling that his competitive nature might just have _something _to do with it..

"I can pay you – when we get back to Domino."

Seto's eyes darkened moodily, his fingers clenching tight around the object that Yuugi was covertly eying from his lower vantage point. His nostrils flared threateningly and eyebrows snapped down into a lowered expression, his lips curling into a snarling sneer of a smirk that made Yuugi uneasily shift on his feet, the hopeful light in his violet eyes dwindling.

With an element of cold amusement that Otogi seemed to find particularly amusing when directed at a human being that _wasn't _himself, Seto replied, "it isn't that I can't _afford_ it Mutou, it's that I simply don't want to."

Exasperation filled the King of Games' face and he let out a frustrated huff of, "_Kaiba!_" that Seto seemed to find eerily pleasing.

Instead, the now smoldering blue eyes of the elder Kaiba seemed to lock onto Yuugi with wisps of his amusement almost tangible in the air, his lips curled into a thoughtful expression and his head cocked on a deliberate angle.

"I thought that you were under the impression that honesty was the best policy?"

Obvious frustration leaked out onto the King of Games' face and he let out a huff that made Ryou hurriedly hide a chuckle behind his hands. A decidedly grumpy twitch centered upon usually smiling lips and amethyst eyes fixed moodily upon the elder Kaiba, "have you always been this insufferable?"

If Seto found this the least bit insulting he didn't show it, amusement lightening the set of his eyes as he raised an eyebrow elegantly in feigned thought before replying in the same cool tone, "as far as I recall."

Yuugi's eyes fixed once again upon the hand in which was enclosed the coveted piece of technology before taking a deep breath and trying again, summoning the dregs of his patience to ask in a carefully light tone, "do you _enjoy_ seeing me suffer Kaiba?"

The amused curl of Seto's lips certainly didn't bode well for Yuugi's patience, nor did the detached way in which Seto readjusted his posture and flicked an imagined speck of dust from his shoulder.

"Glad to see you finally got the memo Yuugi."

A soft clucking of disapproval echoed in the elder Kaiba's ear and he almost jumped at the brush of ghostly fingertips across his neck, "now now omote, what happened to all those lessons on _manners _that the little snots been trying to instill in you?"

A sneer graced the elder Kaiba's lips at a disbelieving snort from the direction of Otogi and Bakura and he twisted his neck evasively from the brush of cool fingertips with a dark look of warning in the spirits direction.

In complete contrast to the desired effect the spirit merely offered a mirror reflection of Seto's earlier smirk and slung himself over the arm of Seto's chair. His eyes traveled the relatively short distance between the cell-phone clutched protectively in Seto's fingers to Yuugi with vague amusement.

"I had no idea you were so possessive omote."

A flash of scarlet seemed to strike Ryou's eyes briefly to accompany the casual jibe of, "if I remember correctly, _he _isn't the only one Priest."

The subtle jibe was met with twin flashes of irritable blue eyes in the white-haired boys direction before they returned to their earlier stand-off.

"You know Kaiba, for someone who grew up in an orphanage you're_ awfully_ uncharitable," was the lazy assessment from a decidedly bored looking Otogi.

The Game Creator was hardly surprised by the vicious stare that turned upon him and seemed almost pleased with himself. His lips curling in dry amusement as he kicked his booted feet onto the arm of the neighboring chair, ignoring both the exclamation of irritation from its current red-headed occupant and the growl that followed.

"Besides," Otogi continued with a sly half-glance in Yuugi's direction and ignoring the silent pleading that sprouted in the boys eyes, "he only wants it so that he can wish _Mazaki_ a Happy Birthday."

If there was anything in the world that Otogi could have said that would have moved Seto even _less _to give up his cell-phone to his nemesis it hadn't yet been discovered – and Yuugi knew it too.

With an irritable half-scowl in Otogi's direction and a mental note to find out exactly what it was that he had done to offend the Game Creator the King of Games turned pleading amethyst eyes back to Seto's own.

Seto's sneer had reached new depths at this pronouncement, though now a shiver of vindictive glee had worked its way into the depths of his blue eyes.

'You really _do _have a bad case of situation-envy don't you omote?' was the amused jibe from the spirit who seemed quite at home in the suddenly very close proximity to his reincarnation.

If the High Priest had expected to get a rise out of Seto for the comment he was decidedly surprised by the way that his reincarnation seemed to deflect the whisper with a mere flicker of his eyes that almost belied.. _amusement?_

"Why should _I _even consider funding a pity-call to one of your friendship-geeks Mutou?" was the far too casual and _oh _so amused declaration that Seto gave from beneath a rapidly lightening blue stare.

Yuugi's cheeks colored briefly as he visibly bristled at the jab, while it was hardly an unfamiliar term of endearment when it came to Seto Kaiba, he had always taken it to heart when others insulted his friends. "I thought that you had _grown _as a person over the past few months Kaiba. Apparently I was mistaken."

".. And I suppose we were _all_ mistaken in thinking that that couldn't _possibly _be the maximum height that you would _grow _too. Funny how things work out isn't it?"

A somewhat stunned silence followed the proclamation, as eyes turned from the culprit of the casual jab to Yuugi who turned a wholly irritable amethyst glare onto the lounging Game Creator. A sarcastic smile was readily produced and Otogi's eyebrows danced upwards in feigned innocence.

With a feat of self-restraint that was truly admirable the King of Games sucked in a deep breath, suffered the indignity of Atemu's soft chuckling in his mind and thoroughly ignored the amused offerings of help. Setting his lip he turned stiffly and stalked over to the couch and sank down with a decidedly childish pout settling over his lips.

Ignoring the triumph that struck up in Seto's eyes or the glow of fiendish amusement that seemed to overtake Otogi's features, Yuugi's attention instead honed in on the game of Wizarding Chess that was being played in a remote corner of the room between a decidedly gleeful Ron Weasley (who was quite decisively winning) and his irritable eldest brother (who was suffering the indignity of Otogi's thankfully divided attention _and _the second-eldest Weasley's snipes for his efforts).

He watched with peaked curiosity as one of the younger Weasley's bishops smashed one of Bill's dwindling forces to the board with brutal force. A twitch of awareness rose within the back of his mind as Atemu's interest was sparked and he subconsciously leaned towards the game with a familiar sheen of red tinting his eyes.

As he watched Charlie snickered loudly as yet again one of Bill's pieces was destroyed through some unforeseen peril and far louder than was necessary the younger Weasley crowed, "_check-mate!_"

For a moment the elder Weasley tugged distractedly at the end of his vivid ponytail and his eyes glittered with some bitter frustration before he rolled his eyes and vacated his seat with a stiff grimace.

The younger Weasley's triumph only lasted for several more moments of gloating before he looked to seek out his next challenge, his hands already setting his pieces back into place. Ron turned with a predatory eye upon the Dragon Keeper who was in the pretenses of cooing at his young charge while smirking at his elder brother.

Kleidon seemed to sense the insincerity of his minders attentions and uttered a low growl that hurriedly drew Charlie's attention.

Bill muttered something that sounded awfully akin to; "_whipped_."

Charlie pretended not to notice.

Seeing that his intended victim was entirely oblivious the younger Weasley's lips curled in slight frustration and his eyes continued to trek across the room. A thoughtful gleam crossing his brown eyes he turned them upon his next target.

"Hey Harry, do you wan-"

Ron was abruptly cut off by a sharp and resounding, "absolutely not."

A slight scowl affecting his face once again his eyes progressed until they reached (and met) an eerie crimson stare. For a moment the youngest Weasley brother seemed startled at having found himself being watched and he struggled to recall the name of the eccentric foreigner.

When a flame of challenge rose within the others crimson eyes Ron conceded that he had found his next opponent.

Without a word, Atemu, for it was_ certainly_ no longer Yuugi within control, rose to his feet and strode the short distance between _his _couch and the chair that Bill Weasley had recently vacated in his defeat. The two elder Weasley brothers caught sight of the new opponent with vague interest and turned from their quiet war back to attention.

Seto's eyes flickered with interest as they turned from pointedly ignoring the close proximity of the spirit of the Sennen Rod towards the game.

A dry smile crossed his lips and he shifted in his chair to observe – only giving a brief mutter of acknowledgment as Mokuba slipped in the doorway with a vaguely perplexed expression touching his face.

It was apparent from the very moment that the game started that Ron Weasley didn't know who he was dealing with, not that he could have helped it if he could.

After all, there was only _one _King of Games.

With a militaristic fervor and supreme confidence that far exuded anything that Ron could throw at him Atemu crushed his opponents tactics one by one; seemingly enjoying the faint sheen of dazed confusion that arose within the youngest Weasley brothers eyes as he obliterated his defenses.

Perhaps to add to Ron's irritation his eldest brothers found something of a calling in suddenly supporting Atemu with infuriating fervor. It seemed that they had been waiting a _very _long time for someone to finally; '_knock Ron off his high horse_' as they said.

As the game progressed and the younger Weasley tried valiantly to rally his forces against the series of traps that Atemu had laid out with careful precision Seto felt the stirrings of a challenge awaken within his blood. He found himself analyzing every move that was made with the honed eye of a champion, his lips descending into a steadily more incredulous haze of indignant fury.

Set, having deigned to watch his reincarnation rather than the terribly mismatched game taking place, found his lips curling with vague amusement as steadily Seto's behavior began to change.

To the majority of the human race Seto Kaiba was a man made of tempered steel. He did not show signs of his inner-thought or irritation to the world. He was, to the observations of most, the most aloof and detached person that you should ever hope to meet – and by all accounts, a man whose poker face was infallible.

To Set, however, Seto Kaiba was steadily becoming a source of intriguing study. For if one were to look at his face they would be entirely at a loss to the inner content of his mind, but for those who knew where to look he was as open as Yuugi Mutou.

It always began with his hands – an absent twitching or drumming of the fingers across the arm of his chair, his knee, his opposing arm as they crossed in an attempt to still them. Then was his feet, the slight jostle or tapping of his shoes against the floor. As his irritation progressed there would come the fussing with his hair, fingers absently brushing wayward strands from his vision as the barest touches of annoyance would flicker for barely a moment in his eyes.

Set's lips curled wryly as for the second time in as many minutes Seto's fingers sought out one such irritating strand of wayward hair and brushed it aside irritably. His fingers drumming a staccato beat upon the slick leather that encased his legs.

'_Why do you not just challenge him omote?_' was the amused inquiry after a length of study.

Seto's eyes gleamed darkly for a brief moment, eyes focusing upon the pair locked in a completely mismatched clean sweep before they turned to regard Set with wary interest, 'are you suggesting, Set, that I challenge the _almighty Pharaoh _and risk triggering an event that may lead us all to a terrible unstoppable predestined future of chaos and destruction?'

The brutal sarcasm that dripped from Seto's tone was enough to make Set bristle and offer a diluted scowl in his reincarnations general direction.

'Sarcasm is the lowest form of humor omote,' was the indignant reproof.

Seto's smile seemed to twitch as he readjusted himself in his chair once more and spared a brief glance away from the game in front of him towards the spirit of the Rod, 'I suppose its a good thing that I have no aspirations towards stand-up comedy then.'

Set made to shoot an irritable stare towards his other half but was thwarted once again; Seto's attention had already diverted back to the game taking place.

As Ron let out a frustrated grunt at being caught once again within one of Atemu's subtly placed traps Seto let out a growl of something that sounded suspiciously like, "_amateur._"

Set's lips curled in something akin to amusement as Seto unintentionally began to lean towards the match. When yet another grunt of irritation rose from the corner Seto abruptly stood and swept over with a dangerous flashing of irritation in his dark eyes.

Ron glanced up in surprise at the sudden shadow hovering over him and jumped visibly at the sight of the decidedly irritable elder Kaiba. A series of stares were drawn magnetically towards Seto as he folded his arms impatiently and tilted his chin haughtily; he seemed to Ron the very picture of arrogant contempt.

"Amateur," was the decidedly cold sneer that made Ron's face flush with color.

"Hold on a minute," the other boy snapped abruptly as the tips of his ears began to to burn, "I'm the house champion at Hogwarts. Who do-"

Seto cut him off with a decidedly un-elegant snort and a disbelieving raise of his eyebrows, "and _you _are currently facing the King of Games. What sort of chance is it that you believe you_ have?_"

There was a softly amused chuckle from somewhere nearby and Seto shot a dark look in Otogi's direction as he added in a sing-song voice, "about the same sort of chance as you would Kaiba."

Like a cascade of ice Seto's entire disposition turned the room cold, his eyes flashing with the ominous presence of a thunderstorm about to break. There was no cause for the tirade that was building to break however because someone got there before them.

With a fervor that was quite frankly terrifying the younger Kaiba brother's hackles raised like a provoked puppy. Slate-gray eyes striking a sudden and ominous resemblance to his elder brother's as he rounded upon Otogi with a thunderous expression, "_Seto_ is the_ world_ champion – how could you even_ compare_ him to that hack – even_ I_ could beat him."

An indignant squawk of "_hey!_" went unnoticed from the now fuschia-tinted Weasley as Otogi's lips curved in a mischievous smile.

The Game Creator lounged further into his chair, his eyes gleaming lazily from a half-lidded stare as a lazy smile pooled across his face. Dark hair was listlessly combed away from his eyes before the furious slate-blue stare was met and an arch-smile preferred, "now _that_ hasn't saved him before has it?"

Seto stiffened visibly at the blow and turned a razor-sharp blue stare upon the Game Creator, his lips twitching into an ominously sharp curve of cold amusement, "nor did it save _you_.. Even considering you were the _creator _of the game you were beaten at. I wonder how it felt – to be beaten by a rookie at a game that you had labored for years over?"

Otogi flinched visibly before resuming his cool, his green eyes glittering with a visible sheen of amusement, "_touch'e_."

With a self-satisfied gleam entering his eyes he turned back to the rattled and quickly angering Ron Weasley to survey him with open amusement. There was a pause and Seto raised an eyebrow pointedly, "_well?_"

"That's enough Kaiba," was the curt and decidedly sharp interruption from the crimson-eyed King of Games.

Seto's eyes darkened fractionally and a glance was thrown in what could have been a careless manner over his shoulder in the direction where the High Priest was still lounging against his vacated chair.

"I consider it an act of mercy to remove those too incompetent to recognize their own inadequacy from _your _path, _Pharaoh._"

A flash of disgruntled displeasure rolled through crimson eyes and leather boots tapped against the faded carpet in disappointment.

"Well then Kaiba-kun, are you going to show us all how it's done?"

The words that flooded the air were spoken in a deceptively innocent tone and when turned upon Ryou Bakura wore only a mild expression of vague curiosity and nothing to suggest the decidedly amused undertone that was present in his words.

Within the space of time that Ryou's words had taken Set had abruptly risen from his chair and sidled forwards to lean unceremoniously upon his marginally taller reincarnation with open amusement.

"Of course he is – aren't you omote?"

The supreme confidence that swelled within Set's words didn't go unnoticed by any of the assembled and his dark eyes fixed stubbornly upon the crimson eyes of his nemesis with gleaming amusement.

* * *

"Check." 

There was a disgruntled muttering from a collection of the black pieces of the board who turned eyes hopefully back to the pensive blue-eyed stare of their director. Another direction was given and the check was broken – for what seemed to have been the hundredth time in the past half-an-hour.

Set found his lips twitching with suppressed amusement as he watched the tedious exchange progress. It was a give-and-take battle that seemed to find one marginally edging in front before being edged out of the way – and neither of them seemed willing to accept defeat.

The lingering observers had already begun to get distracted – most pointedly in the case of the two eldest Weasley brothers who were attempting to off-load Otogi's attentions onto each other and failing miserably – yet both participants were engulfed in their game wholly. Only paying any heed to the occasional comments that were offered from their other halves.

There was only one occupant of the room that seemed to resent the devotion of attention to the game – and that occupant was currently stalking irritably alongside the chess-board and growling at the chess-pieces ominously.

"If I win Kaiba," came the conversational yet decidedly edged proclamation from the crimson eyed Pharaoh, "than _you _have to let Yuugi use your phone to ring his friends."

Seto's lips curled with disdain and yet he conceded with a nod of his head, adding his own condition to the bargain, "and if _I _win Pharaoh, you have to admit that the only reason you challenged the kid is because you _knew _you could crush him."

Atemu stiffened in his chair and glanced surreptitiously towards where the youngest Weasley was seated, still nursing his bruised ego, before giving a discreet nod and a slight grunt of affirmation.

With a smirk that belied his intense concentration the elder Kaiba casually directed another of his pieces forward into combat against one of his opposing forces; ignoring what seemed to be a grating snarl on the edge of his consciousness.

The last thing that either of the pair expected as Atemu sank into contemplation of his next move was for the board to be engulfed in red-flames or for the tiny (and quite infuriated) little dragon to snarl rather convincingly at the pair of them and beat its leathery wings huffily through the air.

As howls and screams of terror came from the animate chess pieces two sets of eyes snapped upwards to meet in one, decidedly bemused stare.

There was a pause in which the room seemed to suck in and hold a giant breath before Atemu gave a slight and wan smile.

"I suppose it's a draw then?"

Disbelieving stares rained down on the reigning King of Games as his crimson eyes glittered with the dregs of twisted humor,cultivated in centuries of alone-time, before he raised a regal eyebrow as though in challenge.

"A draw," Seto acknowledged – though whether this was a statement or a question wasn't particularly clear.

Atemu nodded again, his eyes glinting in the light as he repeated coolly, "a draw."

When no further elaboration came the spirit seemed to twitch in his hosts body, his tongue darted out over dry lips and he toyed absently with the metal at his wrists. After only a few moments of deliberation, in which he seemed to be debating something within the boundaries of his own mind, he let out a sigh and turned a somewhat subdued crimson stare upon his rival.

"So.. I suppose I'll be making that phone-call then?"

Seto's lips twisted in vague amusement and he leaned back in his chair, fingers sweeping loftily through his fringe as dark eyes glittered with ill-disguised amusement.

"Your what, Pharaoh?"

His tone was mild enough to give even Remus Lupin a bad case of Cucumber-Envy. (**6**)

"My phone call," Atemu repeated with just as much finesse, "for Yuugi of course."

Seto raised an eyebrow lazily, his lips curled in a smile that was nothing short of _foxy _before blue eyes rolled slowly, deliberately towards the sulking thunderstorm that was Ron Weasley. Lips twitching as he glanced back to the suddenly less than enthusiastic Ex-Pharaoh Seto readjusted himself in his chair, glancing briefly upwards as the Spirit of the Sennen Rod balanced his elbows on the elder Kaiba's shoulders.

The High Priest took the opportunity to level a mocking stare at his cousin over Seto's head of finely mussed caramel hair.

Stiffening visibly the King of Games glanced hesitantly in the red-heads direction before grimacing openly and standing abruptly. With an obvious breath of resolution being inhaled and piercing crimson eyes casting irritable glares at the twin expressions of mocking amusement that were leveled upon him he swept towards the youngest Weasley brother.

Upon reaching him, and receiving for his efforts a moody stare, Atemu took in a deep breath and blurted out in a decidedly pitched rush, "I apologize for making you think you had any chance of beating me."

The effect that Atemu had wished to have – and the effect that his words _received_ varied considerably.

The former Pharaoh had been hoping for a painless nod of acceptance and maybe even a small no-hard-feeling's sort of smile that would smooth things over completely – what he_ got_ was a quickly darkening face and fury tingling in the red-heads eyes.

"_WHAT?_"

Atemu choked – ignored the snorts of laughter from behind him – and took a step backwards, raising his hands defensively before him in a would-be placating manner.

"It's not like it's something to be_ ashamed_ of.."

An eerie hissing noise escaped Ron's mouth.

Yuugi could hardly breathe for laughing in the safety of his mind.

Otogi's amused chuckling had soon joined the twin sneers of amusement from the near-identical Kaiba figures and that was in turn soon joined by a decidedly unapologetic chuckle from Ryou in the corner. Mokuba at least was making an effort to keep a straight face when Atemu glared at him.

The rest of the group, however, seemed to be wearing identical expressions of apprehension – their eyes were fixed uncertainly upon the stewing red-head before the eldest Weasley brother stepped forwards with the self-sacrificing dignity of a martyr.

"Come on Ron – don't be a sore loser. He _did _beat you fair and square.."

There was a loud yell of fury, clomping footsteps and the deafening slam of a door.

A weary sigh escaped the brunette seated on one of the couches next to Ginny Weasley and she shared a tired look with a decidedly amused, yet trying not to show it, Harry Potter.

In agreement the pair rose as a duo and clambered out of the room after their friends with slightly less enthusiasm than the situation was probably warranting.

With a visible flinch the Ex-Pharaoh turned upon the openly amused assembly and more specifically; the twin faces of arrogance and amusement that stared at him from over the smoke-screen of a still blazing chess board that nobody had quite thought to put out yet.

As he watched the elder Kaiba brother reached out to scratch the now entirely affectionate Kleidon under the chin.

Atemu's eyebrows twitched.

Without warning he found something hard hitting him in the center of the chest – with fumbling reflexes he had to jerk to catch the _thing _that had suddenly sailed from seemingly nowhere and stared in bewilderment down at the small silver.. _cellphone._

Crimson eyes blazed as they raised to meet mocking blue counterparts.

Oh - Seto Kaiba would _pay.

* * *

**Footnotes: ** _

1. -grins- Yes.. I imagine he _would _be disappointed.  
2. For some reason I have these mental images of a young Set taunting his cousin relentlessly to try and make his forehead do the 'veiny' thing..  
3. A good point, I think, to explain something that I've had several questions about. Basically, Sirius' soul was split up into _seven _parts – not two. Anyone with the general gist of _why _I chose the number seven is bordering on 'smart cookie' lines.  
4. I believe someone asked my _why _I was opposed to the Tonks/Lupin pairing in Book 6.. There are elements of a hint or two in here..  
5. Oh come on! You didn't _really _think I was going to explain it _all _here did you? -snorts-  
6. Yes.. Cucumber-Envy. Anyone with a vague inclination as to what _that _means also deserves the title of 'Smart Cookie.'

* * *

**AN: **Well.. It's been a long, _long _time since I updated – and I apologize profusely for it. There was an arising of circumstances; which basically means that I had mock-Exams, assessments and large numbers of essays to complete. Many apologies. What you can thank for the completion of this chapter is the song, "Start Me Up" by the Rolling Stones, which has been on continuous repeat for the last three hours. -Grins- For some reason I can't grow tired of this song – go figure! Not sure about the chapter – but I won't dispute it, it's late, I've developed a severe case of _Mick Jagger-itis _and am beginning to think that dancing in my underwear ala Tom Cruise would be a _good _idea.. Merry Fridays folks.. No wait, it's Saturday now. My Masked Ball awaits in.. 17 and a half hours. The countdown begins til party time.. 

"_If you start me up -  
Yeah if you start me up I'll never stop._"

**

* * *

**

**Sevter: **Got it in one, partner. It's a shame you don't like Sirius.. But Snape _does _have that lovely biting sarcasm to fall back on doesn't he? Gotta love a man with a-_ti-_tude.  
**Dartz'LoyalServant: **Yeahp.. Poor Otogi; though I must say he gives as good as he gets. It'll all come together in the end; or at least – I hope it will. Otherwise I'm down shit creek without a paddle aren't I?  
**PrEtTyStUpIdGiRl: **Haha.. I still claim denial in the case of the Sixth Book. It.. scares me. Hardly a _quick _update but an update none the less..  
**Samuraiduck27**: Yeah. Poor Old Snivellus just can't shake that Black off can he.. Poor wee buggar.  
**A lilmatchgirl: **Good to hear that Ryuuji is shaping up – though he definitely dipped into 'I am the Peacock' mode this chapter.. Ah well, gives him flavour..  
**Queen of the Paperclips: **Glad that _I'm _not the only one who can see the similarities in Otogi and Sirius.. And you're right.. This stories turning into one of those bendy straws  
**Lily of the Shadow: **Well done, you deserve a goldstar. Hopefully the Otogi/Sirius connection begins to get clearer to you.. And for trivia's sake that _was _the first shower that I have mentioned Seto having in the course of the fic.. The dirty wee buggar.  
**CaptainInuyusha777:** Oh yes, it is _always _fun to get characters drunk – particularly sensible wee lads like our Remus.  
**Achika: **Yes, another Otogi fan. I really _do _need to step up the _actual _interaction between the Otogi/Weasley Brothers. It's mostly been just mentioning's rather than actual interaction. That oughtta tie into _next _chapter nicely I think..  
**LuciferoftheCircle: **Ah don't worry, I don't plan on giving up this story after all of the effort that went into the research, the planning, the plotting, the _writing. _Updates may fluctuate between fast and slow but they will not cease until it's completed. The total amount of books to be written is hanging in the balance, it all depends on which ones that I deem _necessary _to write after the completion of the Seto book – that and of course, the ones that are in demand. The ones that I definitely plan to write thus far are the Malik Book, the Otogi Book, the Bellatrix Book, the Bakura Book and most likely a toss-up between the Sirius/Remus/Severus Books. Ah, yes.. The quotes at the ends of the chapters. _Do _have fun trying to figure them out – they still amuse me greatly when I look back over them – and they're still coming.  
**Kurosaisei: **Thanks.. I completely agree. There are so many terrible HP/YGO crossovers that its begun to make me cringe when I see those letters combined.. Dedicated? Me? -snickers- No.. This isn't dedication, this is me trying to flex my superiority valve?  
**Skycat: **Good show – hopefully you've survived tolerably well in the Funny Farm in recent times. I'll nick you some free champagne from the open bar at my Ball tomorrow as compensation.  
**Sanjuno Shori Niko: **Cheers. Another chapter for your reading pleasure.. Somewhat late yet intact.  
**Darkdaisy: **Masterpiece? I _like _that phrase.  
**The Violent Tomboy: **Yes.. and I'm a weird person. Fits me to a T.  
**Kyia Star: **.. And BINGO was his name-o. I definitely think that Lupin's spying job amongst the werewolves amounted to a great deal of his stress.. Snape is.. a difficult character to like.  
**CrystalStorm: **Thanks, hopefully this chapter was equally as good. Though I have my doubts..  
**Suteneko-Chan: **Ahh yes, the wonder of reviews aye? Half-Blood Prince was a shock to the system no doubt – and yes, Lupin drunk _is _an interesting concept. One I may have to continue to explore.. And yes, it _was _Spike! I'm another admitted Buffy-Nut. I blame my sister – she got me hooked.  
**Viva Rose : **Now thats my kind of Updation-Reaction..  
**Eden's Echo: **Ahh yes, I had difficulty finding a place for Mokuba last chapter but I made sure to include him this chapter. Remember that Seto was completely and utterly exhausted in the last chapter – he shouldn't even have been out of bed, so it's understandable that his wit wasn't quite up to par with what it usually is. Dumbledore knows the vague details of the prophecy of Set/Seto and Atemu, though he has yet to decipher what it is that he _has _discovered. I think you can gather whether Mariku's going to make an appearance from _that _little episode up there. Ahh the Sirius Soul escapade; the main point is that his soul wasn't split in half – it was split into _seven _pieces. Or rather his 'essence' was split into seven pieces. So they have well 'officially' gathered two pieces now. Only other advice is to look at the chapter explaining it all again; especially the bit about the Shadow and the Light**.  
Cor-chan: **Now I've got _that _mental image in my head as well.. So, so cute**..  
Yuki Tsukihana: **-Grins- Have fun guessing your traitor, I'm not letting _any _secrets out about this one. Yes.. Snape was in a spectacularly vindictive mood wasn't he? **  
Nachzes Black-Rider: **-Cackles- Yes.. Another long awaited update. I'm _too _cruel these days.. Glad to hear my quotes are.. lovely? That they are.. Spike**.  
Cammy: **Thank you! The word brilliant makes me enthusiastic.. Or it might be the fact that I'm on what seems to be the 72nd repetition of "Start Me Up" now and have been tipped over the teetering brink of sanity. Whatever it is – I_ like_ it.  
**QueenofGames2:** Malik giving them hell? To do that he has to stop giving_ himself_ hell.. -grins- though believe me.. Bella and Co will get one nasty surprise when they try to bully our wee Malik. Oh yes.. I could throttle Shakespeare myself.. have been revising Othello in preparation for my English Mock.. -twitches-  
**Chelley Angel:** Tsk tsk indeed..  
**animaster-sonja:** I like to think so too..  
**Ciardra:** Oh yes, Otogi is going to have a_ lot_ of fun with the lot of them. Spikey-haired entertainment and Malik and Mokuba abound this chapter? Hopefully enough to satiate the needs of a Pharaoh-enthusiast?  
**Night-Owl123:** Hardly_ soon_ but an update none the less.  
**Phoenixfire1389:** Exactly.. I tried to think of what I would do if I heard a conversation as equally ridiculous about someone I knew.. and well, Otogi never_ was_ the subtle type. Yes, I'll try to incorporate Half-Blood Prince as much as I can but its going to be a mission.  
**LovingKitten:** Ahh yes, it's not that theres anything_ wrong_ with Tonks/Lupin, it's just that I'm a Remus/Sirius shipper for life. And Set/Seto are building slowly.. It won't be a focal point of the story however..  
**Insanechildfanfic:** Cheers.  
**BH:** I congratulate you on your.. well, not short, but short_er_ wait then the poor saps who noticed when I first updated. I won't share my views on the death – it makes me get all huffy and at the moment I'm too Mick Jagger-fied to give my thoughts clarity; I'm half delirious with giggling and seem unable to stop chanting; "Start me up!". Otogi's a weird guy – and he's getting _weirder _by the day. **  
Kenmeishouri: **Thanks – appreciate the compliments.

* * *

"_Ah! The Monkey's been shot! Poor little buggar_.."

* * *


	23. Eyes Can't See

**Book One of Eight;  
****_Chasing the Dragon  
_****-Chapter Twenty** **Two-**

Eyes Can't See

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

Seto Kaiba had always found that the faint buzzing that his laptop began to make after several hours of use was strangely soothing. He had never bothered to question why it did it, nor had he ever taken any measures to fix the problem – it had always been something of very little consequence to him.

At least, it had been until the buzzing was accompanied by atrociously cheerful _humming._

Seto had always known that he had very little patience when it came to commonplace irritations and _some _might even go so far to say that he was paranoid for even _thinking _it.. But he'd be damned if Yuugi Mutou wasn't doing it just to piss him off.

The tune was bubbly and familiar – _infuriatingly _so – and it had infiltrated the steely banks of his mind where it had been cheerfully playing backup to Yuugi's incessant noise.

With a resolute flaring of his nostrils and a deep breath, Seto clicked his laptop shut and turned a decidedly hostile stare on the docilely smiling Yuugi who was contentedly shuffling through his dueling deck. Every so often he would pause to inspect a certain card, smile in a disgustingly happy way, before continuing in his prior activity.

The activity was the very picture of serenity (including that obnoxious humming) and something about the whole thing irked Seto immensely.

It must have been something in the air.

Obviously sensing Seto's stare the King of Games paused in his shuffling. The humming came to a hesitant pause.

To Seto's dismay the tune in his head picked up to take the lead vocals.

"Kaiba-kun?"

A faint wrinkle appeared between Yuugi's eyebrows as he rose slightly in his seat to regard Seto with a perplexed stare, "is something the matter?"

When Seto's stare failed to retreat and no answer was forthcoming the King of Games plucked nervously at the too-big t-shirt he had borrowed from on the Weasley's and averted his eyes.

A squawk of surprised leapt from his throat the precise same moment as he tumbled from the couch.

It was safe to say that he _hadn't _noticed Set leaning over him.

With a decidedly amused line curling his lips the Priest mirrored his reincarnations stare and turned it upon the decidedly embarrassed Yuugi as he picked himself up off of the floor.

"What were you doing?" he muttered out in a decidedly less chipper tone that he was generally attributed to having.

"I was merely seeing what additions my dear Cousin has made to his forces over the years – my omote, however, was objecting to your humming. It was just a flavor too obnoxious for his tastes."

Seto was _sure _that he saw a smirk cross the King of Games' face briefly before it all but dripped of innocent surprise.

'_It's not paranoia if its true_,' was his self affirmation.

The amused glance that Set spared in his direction gave Seto every reason to scowl.

"I'm sorry Kaiba-kun," Yuugi interjected with a nauseatingly cheerful smile, "I wasn't aware that it was affecting you."

The gleam in Yuugi's eyes clearly read, '_but now I do._'

Seto gave the King of Games another wary look before flicking his laptop open once again, settling into the low and soothing buzzing that had whiled away many long hours spent in service of his company. It was _normal,_ he decided, the only normal thing that had occurred in a _very _long time.

For a while it seemed that silence would reign victorious between the pair and Seto fought back the triumph that threatened to leak onto his face. After all, silence was hard to come by in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix these days and when it did – it was doomed to never last for very long.

It was as the door pushed open to a returning parade of Otogi and Bakura who were muttering between each other quietly, followed by a decidedly glum looking Harry Potter, a harassed Hermione Granger and a scowling Ginny Weasley.

"You know Kaiba-kun," the King of Games suddenly exclaimed, eyes gleaming mischievously as a muscle twitched on the elder Kaiba's forehead, "I really wanted to thank you for letting me use your cellphone earlier."

There was something so terribly unnatural about the appearance of gratefulness on his rivals face and the interest on the assembled faces, that Seto found himself hurriedly snapping, "it was part of our deal."

Yuugi's lips curled faintly and his eyebrows rose ever so slightly, his wide eyes fixing with an expression of earnestness upon his rivals own face, "but still Kaiba-kun, it must have cost a lot of money.."

Eyes returning to his monitor the elder Kaiba was to all intents and purposes disinterested, "not as much as you'd think," was the distracted reply.

A flash of crimson shot through Yuugi's wide eyes that went entirely unnoticed by the current fixation of that stare but not by the suddenly watchful Ryou Bakura.

"Anzu and Honda and Jou have been very worried," was the cheerful exclamation, each name pronounced with slightly more emphasis.

Otogi's eyes darkened visibly as the wizard and two witches unobtrusively pretended not to be listening.

"Fascinating," was the droll reply as Seto focused upon the draft of his latest set of orders for his managing team.

In the corner Set turned with vague interest towards a now smirking Atemu, whose eyes were flashing with ill-disguised laughter.

"Yes – in fact Anzu was so worried that she _insisted _that she have a means to contact us."

The implications of this statement didn't seem all that important to Seto as the buzzing of his laptop cut out and a strange sense of foreboding filled him, his eyes turned upward warily and assessed the group with a skeptic frown.

"And with Yuugi _so _sure that you wouldn't mind he decided to give her _your _phone number."

The laptop slid with a clatter off of the elder Kaiba's knees and a stare that was frozen somewhere between horror and fury landed upon the former-Pharaoh.

"_You,_" was the slow seething hiss.

One of the Pharaoh's dark eyebrows rose delicately and his lip twitched as Ryou's lips curled and Otogi bit back a snort.

"_Then_ we figured that it simply wouldn't be fair if _only_ Anzu knew how to contact us – what if there was an emergency?"

Stabbing shots of ice seemed to roll up Seto's spine in a slow morbid procession.

All eyes seemed to be fixed upon Seto awaiting his next move.

"_So_," Atemu continued with a smug gleam in his eyes, "we decided that Honda _and _Jou should both be given.."

There was a thud in the center of his chest and a dazed blink as the former-Pharaoh turned his eyes from what was a now stony-faced Seto Kaiba and the silver cellphone that now rested in his lap.

A series of startled stares followed Atemu's from the object in his lap to the person it had come from.

"Consider it a _gift_," was the sharp sneer as Seto turned back to his laptop.

A trace of wordless mouthing from the former-Pharaoh were satisfaction enough for the irritable CEO and he waved the mutterings of, "_couldn't_ _possibly_," with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

The gaze of a decidedly interested Set fixed upon his reincarnation and the High Priest sauntered towards him with a questioning raise of his eyebrows.

'_A bit extreme don't you think omote?_'

Seto's lip twisted visibly and he narrowed his eyes upon his other half.

'_No effort is too extreme when it concerns the Friendship-Wench and her Mutt,_' he grunted back with his eyes fixed upon the monitor once again. (**1**)

The spirits eyebrows raised with amusement and he murmured a barely audible, '_ouch_' within Seto's mind.

'_Besides_,' Seto continued with a half-concealed smirk in the still dazed Pharaoh's direction, '_only an idiot ever leaves the house without a spare.._'

The elder Kaiba's eyes briefly slipped over the assembled group before he paused and retraced the faces once again, a frown marring his forehead.

'.. _Where's Mokuba?_'

* * *

He fancied that the room was full of whispers.

Ghosts that hunted in the shadows – waiting, always waiting, watching and jealously guarding the pale daylight that escaped up the wall. The light that deserted him – leaving him there to the shadow that was always there. _Always_.

'_But you're alone_.'

The voice was thick and deep like the darkest of chocolates, rich and full yet dusted with bitterness like the chocolates Malik had once tried.

'_Always, always alone._'

That crooning whisper melted in his ears, a coaxing lulling symphony that could draw the bird into its fanged trap, much like the seductive curl of warmth that glowed from somewhere within – that haunting whisper that echoed in his soul, amplified by the gleam of gold that he grasped so tightly in his fingertips. A memory of what it was like, what it _could _be again, if he would only.. (**2**)

Lavender eyes closed tight against the cell – _his _cell – against the dark that was replaced by another. His skin felt grimy – dirty – _why _was everything so..

'_The pretty little bird trapped all alone in his dark and scary cage.._'

A shiver rolled over his bare arms and he thrust the golden object harshly back into his pocket with an averted stare, like the addict that hid his face from the drug he so desperately _wanted_.

'_Where would you fly to, little bird, if they didn't clip your wings?'_

"Away," was the whisper that hit the silence like an explosion – a hoarse grating tone that drove into the skin, "far, _far_ away."

Deliberate silence spun through the air like the black webs that itched inside his mind – weaving, tangling, etching into his soul.

_Poison _was what it was.

"Poison," he muttered distractedly.

Fingers, _dirty _fingers, fisted in wheat-blond hair, teeth gnawing at his lip distractedly as his eyes followed the ascent of the light that rose up, up, _up_ above his reach.

"My my, is the poor _ickle _boy afraid of the dark?"

* * *

"Gypsies," was the disgruntled mutter that broke what _had _been an impressively building silence between the two old friends and the select few who accompanied them.

The gruff and irritable tone brought a wan smile to the face of the wisened old headmaster; a smile that was both noticed and unappreciated by the man who had commented.

"You take exception to our new house-guest Alastor?"

There was just a _touch _of wry amusement in Albus Dumbledore's voice.

"Of course I do," was the barked response as a blue eye swiveled alarmingly in its socket, causing a visible squirm from Molly Weasley and a badly-concealed half smile from the Boy Who Lived.

".. _Namby-pamby _nature-loving mystics the lot of them! It's been a _long _time since I've had to deal with Gypsies – and you can _bloody _well stop smiling Albus! You know better than I do that they're worse than ants!"

A sweeping silver eyebrow rose upward in mild curiosity.

The jagged hole that constituted for his mouth twisted grotesquely at the mans next words, "where there is one, another will soon arrive – and another, and another.."

The ex-Auror trailed off with a scowl settling on his disfigured face, his grizzled expression looking even fiercer than usual.

"You can expect trouble Albus, mark my words.."

"Consider them marked, old friend, but tell me, what trouble _should _I be expecting?"

Moody's eye twitched ominously as a finger traced a long thin scar that ran the length of his right cheek to the corner of his lips.

"Don't play the fool with me – we all know that the Ministry has gone and opened up an _old _can of worms. If that boys clan gets hold of what has happened.."

The ominous silence accompanied by the decidedly grim state of the tough-as-old-boots ex-Auror was chilling enough. The ex-Auror settled his one natural eye upon Dumbledore's face somberly, "as if we haven't got _enough _on our hands already.."

Spindly hands wove together upon the tabletop as Albus Dumbledore peered over half-moon glasses at the sole other occupant of the room. He sighed, the sound of a weary old man, and displayed a kindly yet sad smile, "I'm aware of what you're thinking Alastor, but it won't necessarily happen that way."

A scoff of disbelief echoed from the ex-Auror but the headmaster determinedly continued, "From what little information Mister Otogi has been willing to give he has been estranged from his clan for a good many years. It is possible they will not consider it their duty.."

A snort cut the headmaster off once again and a frown replaced his smile.

"Don't delude yourself Dumbledore. Their memories are _long, _their _duty _is undeniable – they have not forgotten the _Wars._ They have not forgotten their kin that were murdered in the dead of night, slain by Wizarding hands.. To hear that one of their kind was convicted of no crime other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time and sent to _Azkaban _of all places? We will be lucky if their battle-cries aren't raging in Diagon Alley next week!" (**3**)

The mood of the headmaster seemed to sink low with an accepting silence.

"Albus," was Molly Weasley's nervous complaint, "this is getting out of control! Now, not only are we housing fugitives of the Ministry but Azkaban-escapee's as well! They will throw us all into Azkaban .."

All eyes seemed to pin upon the matron of the household in her obvious distress as she covertly turned eyes from Harry to the Headmaster almost pleadingly.

"Molly," was the quiet murmur from a decidedly sharp Remus Lupin, "we have been the hosts of fugitives and Azkaban-escapee's for a long time. You will find that _your _former host, the owner who so kindly gave up this house for the Order's use, was _just _such a person."

The blazing stare he gave her seemed to make her shrink back her lips twitching before they turned back to Harry and she tried again, "but Sirius was _innocent. _These people are dangerous! Gypsies and _god _only knows what else! We've seen it time and time again - we're putting the children and ourselves at unnecessary risks. What if they're working for _Him. _I'm beginning to wonder if for once in his life Cornelius might have been _right _about something!"

As Dumbledore opened his mouth to placate the raging Weasley she persisted.

"And – and what about _Harry!_"

The boy in question started at his mentioning.

"They're _dangerous _Albus – they don't understand..."

"I can take care of myself," was the indignant snap from the younger Wizard whose green eyes were suddenly crackling behind his glasses.

There was a sharp bang that seemed to cut the womans protests into ribbons as a smoldering pair of slate-grey eyes steeled upon the group. Though at a decidedly diminutive stature compared to those already assembled Mokuba Kaiba had never looked so fierce.

For the first time since his arrival, Alastor Moody saw in the teenager standing in the doorway a striking resemblance to his elder brother.

Eyes blazing like firebrands and fingers clenched into white-knuckled fists the boy stormed into the kitchen like a hurricane, ignoring the startled look upon the Headmasters face, "is thisthe thanks we get?"

His voice was low and threatening like the tide of an incoming storm, "is _this _the thanks we get? My brother _saves _your lives and you treat him like a criminal? Otogi-kun is sent to _prison _for something he didn't even _do _and he is suddenly an '_unnecessary risk_'?"

With eyes filling with angry tears the boy regarded the room with a stinging glare of wounded trust and a stormy constitution. Molly Weasley's face was aghast and a flicker of an old and familiar wound lingered Remus Lupin's eyes, it was unsurprising that it was he who spoke with Albus Dumbledore studying the boy that had, until that moment, simply been Seto Kaiba's little brother.

"People fear what is unfamiliar Mokuba," he spoke up quietly with amber eyes fixed solemnly upon the boy, "your brother has powers that cannot be explained by modern thinking, Otogi's kind have long been a nightmare of the darkest corner of Wizarding history. It is a natural yet inexcusable reaction that _we _have experienced."

Mokuba thought he saw something in the man's reply that told a far deeper tale than its surface but refused to be placated so easily – he was, after all, Seto _Kaiba's _brother.

"He offered you aid in a War that doesn't _affect him!_"

He was trembling visibly and it was a tremendous surprise to all involved, who had been so thoroughly absorbed in his fury, when a hand laid upon his shoulder and a fierce blue stare fixed upon them from a far higher stature.

Seto Kaiba's voice was gentle yet edged with steel as he spoke, eyes lingering briefly on his sole relative, "that's enough Mokuba."

This was obviously not what the wizards had been expecting which was echoed in the surprise on their faces.

"But 'nii-sama," the younger began, his eyes filled with indignant rage.

"Enough," was the curt yet surprisingly gentle response, "Mutou was asking for you," he added with a dismissive jerk of his head.

There was no doubting that the King of Games had made _no _such request and even littler doubt that Seto Kaiba would condescend to _carry _such a message in the first place.

With a departing glare the younger Kaiba stalked off kicking at the ground.

There was silence until they heard a door slam in the distance and Seto's eyes fixed upon the assembled group with a fury that was almost tangible in its potency. When he spoke his voice was dark and menacing, his eyes flashing like lightning, "if you wish to get rid of us," he spoke in barely more than a whisper, "I would be _very _careful to tell me first – **_not _**have my younger brother overhear you."

A tirade of complaints from the Spirit of the Rod washed over him yet he forced himself to ignore them and keep a steely face presented to the group of decidedly off-guard Wizards.

"I've worked _very_ hardto keep my brother out of this mess – I warn you now, if you drag him into it I willgive you a _reason _to fear me."

Dumbledore was composed once again when he spoke, his eyes fixed seriously upon the furious elder Kaiba and noting the remarkable resemblance between the brothers, "I apologize Mister Kaiba, Molly was concerned for the best interests of her children – and I'm afraid staying in a house filled to the brim with fugitives of the Ministry is perhaps not the ideal situation for them."

Harry muttered something along the lines of, "_innocent,_" beneath his breath.

A cold thin smile was directed in the Weasley matron's direction that made her spine crawl.

"Yes, I imagine she _is _concerned for their welfare. What – with a couple of World-Champion Gamers, successful of entrepreneurs and the head and 2IC of one of the worlds biggest corporations all under the age of twenty in the house – why _wouldn't _she be?"

The sarcasm that stung his words was enough to make the woman flinch. Nobody seemed to have noticed that it was no longer Seto Kaiba in control.

For a moment no-one spoke and Set leveled a wintry glare upon the group.

"Whatever you may think of us as allies – we would make _far _worse enemies."(**4**)

Only surprise and the slam of a door was left in the wake of what was the beginning of a change in the household of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place.

* * *

The soft and mocking voice cut through the webs that encased his thoughts like bright burning steel and drew his eyes haltingly to the scattered beams of light that drew long lingering shadows from his barred doorway.

It was her.

The same cascade of dark hair swinging around a wasted image of former beauty. One side of her pale hollowed face was encased in slowly healing burns that ranged from soft pink to angry crimson, her lips formed a wicked curve of some half-remembered nightmare and her eyes were dazzlingly lit by the rays of light that glittered at the tip of her wand.

As he watched her lips bared against a decidedly ominous smile and thin long arms entangled around the cold bars at his doorway, her head cocked at an angle that denoted curiosity of some kind.

"Is he scared of the things that go bump in the night I wonder?"

Her entire demeanor betrayed a glistening core of madness that made Malik's stomach knot, the darkness seemed to churn in her presence eagerly. It was a sensation that he was all too familiar with.

"Not scared," he muttered softly, clarity coming with the urge to break the illusion, "simply aware."

Delight shone upon her face and her body pressed close to the bars, lips curling back in a marvelous sneer.

"Aware! Aware of _what, _little boy? Do you see the power that surrounds you? Do you know what could happen in the blink of an eye – the slip of my wand.."

The hand that held her lit wand aloft swished emphatically with her words, drowning the dazzling light in an instant. For a moment she was silent before the light returned, proudly illuminating a twisted smile and casually raised eyebrows.

"Does it frighten you?"

Malik's mind stilled as it was haunted by ghosts of ill-suited memories that tempered his nerves and cast dark mirth into his voice, "_frighten_ me? I've faced Seto Kaiba before his first cup of morning coffee. I've endured the wrath of a homicidal King of Thieves whose reputation was at stake.. I tried to _kill _the reincarnation of the Pharaoh and _I _lived to tell the tale," a wry smile crossed his lips, " _I _even survived the wrath of a _mean _mini-Kaiba protecting his 'nii-sama's honor. Do you _honestly _think that your pretty light show could frighten me?"

Bravado stung his eyes and he felt a renewal of his resolve even as he watched the face of a cold-blooded murderer turn dark with anger.

"The Dark Lord has more power than you could ever comprehend you little worm – he could kill you in less time than it takes to sneeze!"

Malik could only watch in vague astonishment as the womans breathing began to race, her eyes growing wide and her aristocratic features contorting in anger. Her fervor was frightening in its complete devotion to the subject that she raged at, her eyes glittering menacingly in the dim light as she hissed, "you think you're brave now little boy, wait – just wait. I'll make you _scream, _I'll make you _beg –_ just like your sister did."

Anger flooded Malik's being faster than anything he'd ever experienced, the hiss of breath that screamed through his lungs nearly choked him as her eyes gleamed in triumph and her arms detached from the bars to entangle in her cloak of dark hair.

Then, everything stopped.

"Dear, _dear, _Bella – you let the little wretch get into your head now didn't you?"

The voice was a rough and poisonous jeer that suggested a high-born origin that the subject in question had spent years trying to deny. Lavender eyes followed the direction of the tone cautiously to discover its owner, a man with hair so dark that it may as well be black and a sneer to match the one that the woman currently bore.

He was a sharp and angular man with a purposeful stride that brought him to a pause several steps away from the woman herself. What should have been a coldly handsome face was wasted with what looked like exhaustion. His complexion was pallid over a hollowed face, rich mahogany eyes were bloodshot and sunken, off-set by thick smudges of dark purple.

And, judging by the stare that the man fixed upon the decidedly unamused woman there must have been something of a very bitter history between the pair.

"Rabastan," the woman greeted after moments of frosty silence, her eyes never quite dropping that pristine gleam of hostility.

A mocking bow was flavored with a courteous, "Bellatrix."

"What do you want? The Dark Lords orders were that _you _should continue trying to decode the tablet," although the words themselves were civil enough there was no mistaking the irritation that lathered upon the dark-haired womans tongue.

A flash of wand light lit the scene and Malik caught the flash of amusement that played cruelly in the mans dark eyes. The Tomb Keeper couldn't help but notice that despite the mans rather haggard appearance he seemed to play the upper-class role rather too well.

"My _dear _brother bid me to fetch his _charming _wife," the words dripped in a mocking replica of Bellatrix's own hostile tone, a disdainful sweep of his dark eyes caught the woman he addressed in its path before he added with a wicked curl of his lips, "I do believe he thought you might get _too _friendly with our newest guest."

A casual inclination of the mans head indicated Malik's direction and murder burned in his companions eyes.

"How _dare _you insinuate – he's _filth. _Muggle-trash.. As _if _I would touch.."

A delighted curl of the younger mans lips brought a pause to her poisonous tirade and it trickled off into a hiss.

"The lady doth protest too much methinks," was the drawled response as he strode passed her to peer curiously through the bars at Malik's silent form, leaving the Egyptian feeling much like an animal at the Zoo. His lips twisted in a warped smile before he glanced back over his shoulder at his silently seething sister-in-law with a delicately raised eyebrow. (**5**)

"Besides Bella, he's _hardly _a muggle now is he? Ancient bloodlines, an exclusive magical cult and a pure heritage dating back to the Old Kingdom," for a moment the mans smug little smile remained stationary before it disappeared and he turned his head back to the cell with a sneer, "I suppose it's only a matter of time before you try to get your nasty little claws into him."

Malik watched with calculated interest as a cold flash of pleasure infected the mans shadowed face at the infuriated snarl that his companion gave.

As the man spoke his voice escalated in it's viciousness, his lips forming a nasty curve and his eyes flashing with every stabbing word. "Oh but Bella.. Remember the good old days? Back when you hunted my brother through the halls of dear old Hogwarts like a blood-hound with a scent.. _Desperate _to marry him then weren't you? Especially after that whole scandalous affair with your sister and that Muggle .."

The twisted trip of nostalgia was brought to a screeching halt as he found himself presented with a decidedly sharp wand situated in the _very _near vicinity of his right eye.

"Now now Rabastan," was the breathless hiss through clenched teeth, "if we'd aired your jealously all of those long years ago we might not have come to this.. As it is we have _two _options, I could hex your pretty brains out or I could let my wand do the damage. What do you _really _need two eyes for anyway?"

The mans breathing was shallow and loud enough to be heard even from Malik's position, the shimmer of light reflection from his pale skin suggested that Malik was either imagining things or he was beginning to sweat. For a brief moment the Egyptian considered his options; while he truly didn't care very much for _either _of his captives first impressions he certainly didn't want to see the mans eye gouged right in front of him – the downside being that should he distract either than their ministrations just might turn to him.

With a slight frown and a determined attempt to ignore the breath of a whisper that echoed in the depths of his mind he made a decision, took a breath and began to laugh.

Predictably the sound surprised the woman enough that Rabastan could gain a safer position – a fact that, by the flashing of the womans eyes, was not in the least bit appreciated.

"What are you laughing at you little worm?"

Lavender eyes sparkling with mirth and cleared of shadows for the time being, Malik's lips curled in a nasty smile and, realizing he was going to have to do some very quick thinking, he leaned towards the strips of light to add to the effect, "I should think that was obvious – there's very little comic material incorporated into the decor."

The vicious gleam in Bellatrix's eyes failed to fade as Malik eyed her with cold amusement.

"But since it seems that you have yet to click I'll enlighten you. I find it highly ironic that I was captured by a band of cult-serving idiots at the instruction of a raging megalomaniac.." (**6**)

The mans cold eyes turned upon Malik in full sardonic frost, his lips quirking as he took a step back toward the barred doorway, his lit wand held aloft like a torch. His tongue clucked disapprovingly at the piteous sight that the Egyptian made, curled upon the floor, and an eyebrow twisted upwards.

"Now there's no need to go and lump us all into the same mold. I'm sure you're well aware of my sister-in-law's dysfunctional state of mind and I may just take offense at being associated with her."

The man shot a razor sharp, would-be charming smile, at the dark-haired woman behind him as she turned and stalked stiffly in the direction that he had come from. With one look that suggested he was heavily trying her patience and a deep intake of breath that seemed intended to steady her nerves (or her wand, as it were) her lips curled in a sharp fake smile that seemed awfully alike the one that the man was wearing.

"You should thank whatever devil it is that you worship, Rabastan, that the Dark Lord abhors fighting within his ranks" she hissed over her shoulder before turning an equally venomous stare upon Malik himself, "and you boy.. You best question your loyalties - do you think you protect your little friends? Do you think they _care_ that you're all alone in the pit of the snake and you have no escape? We'll soon see."

A cool malicious smile was flashed at the pair before she turned on her heel and stalked out of sight.

The mans eyes gleamed with a smugness that well befitted his face as a door snapped shut out of sight and he made a crude hand gesture in the direction the woman had gone. With a smirk that well expressed his victory the Death Eaters attention was thrown back to the now wary figure of the Tomb Keeper. Balanced on the balls of his feet and glaring through the dim light the Egyptian's lavender eyes were eerie in their brightness.

For a while the man was silent, dark hazel eyes fixed in silent analysis of the tense Tomb Keeper before he grunted and began to rummage through his pockets, drawing attention to the fact that the way that the man wore his robes was, to Malik's knowledge, what would be considered entirely indecent by most wizards. In fact, the Tomb Keeper realized and had to work exceptionally hard at steeling his face, they looked considerably like a very finely made bathrobe.

An eyebrow rose with an element of curiosity as Malik inspected the mans robes more closely, none of the wizards that _he _had met thus far had had silk lining in their robes.

With another irritable grunt the Death Eater stuffed his wand into an outer pocket and began digging into the inner pockets of his robes, finally procuring a battered and squashed carton of cigarettes, seemingly ignoring Malik's stare for the time being. After battling with removing the squashed in lid he dug one out of the carton, and, muttering something about running low, he carefully held the unlit cigarette between his lips and shoved the carton back into its former residence. With a brief yet sharp look in Malik's direction he grabbed hold of his wand again and pressed the glowing tip to the unlit cigarette.

A whiff of smoke hit Malik's nostrils almost immediately – no big surprise considering the mans first exhale had been directed right at him.

"I suppose," Rabastan declared aloud with a sigh of satisfaction, "that there is no harm in giving you my name – it's not as if my being a Death Eater is any great secret – that wretched Skeeter woman put paid to that.. I hear I've become something of a nightmare to all the good little boys and girls."

Lips curling in a twisted smile he gave another of his strange mocking half-bows that seemed a throw-back to some half-remembered tradition, "I am Rabastan Lestrange – the charming hag you met just now was my sister-in-law, Bellatrix."

When there was no response from the Egyptian the Death Eater took another long drag from his cigarette and grunted something irritable beneath his breath before continuing, "_she_, is of course, married to my useless son-of-a-bitch elder brother, Rodolphus, who is the spawn of my equally useless toffee-nosed parents."

When still no reply seemed likely the Death Eater let out a long suffering sigh, the glowing butt of his cigarette winding through the air as two fingers pinched the bridge of his nose irritably. Flicking away the ashes of his cigarette, he took what seemed to be a conciliatory drag before settling his cold stare on the decidedly wary Egyptian.

"_Look_," he spoke coldly, "I know exactly who you are and exactly why you're here. What I _don't _know is why you and yours found it so bloody entertaining to encrypt your _sodding _hieroglyphs. I can play nicely or I can stop pretending to care and just torture it out of you – either way, I don't bloody sodding well care.."

At the sudden outburst a fair eyebrow swung upwards, lavender eyes set with satisfaction that no action would be taken just yet settled coolly on the man who had spoken, Rabastan, as he had introduced himself, and settled back onto the concrete to regard him.

"Has it occurred to you, perhaps, that there is a very good reason why those hieroglyphs were encrypted?" Malik contested lightly, his careful assessment of the situation not going unnoticed.

"Isn't there _always _a bloody reason?" was the irritable response as the man rubbed at eyes that were lined by smudges of dark purple.

Malik's lips curled absently, "all things have a purpose," he declared mysteriously with an insolent flaunting of his smirk in the Death Eaters direction, his mind unconsciously summoning memories of his own encounters with a certain infuriatingly vague mystic. (**7**)

There was a grunt of disdain from the wizard.

With only a brief pause the Egyptian found something of a spark ignite within him and the curve of his lips darkened, "I suppose you realize that it's your _charming _sister-in-law is the reason that _you,_ I presume, are having to translate that tablet?"

Without warning the glowing butt of the mans cigarette was whirling through the air towards him and Malik hurriedly ducked his head out of its path before turning his head to watch it bounce and skid across the concrete floor before the embers died out. This action was followed by a bout of volatile cursing and a loud clang as something struck the bars of Malik's cell door.

After a few moments in which there was a loud hiss of pain and a long string of curses the wizards wand once again lit up and Malik caught sight of the grimace that had twisted the mans face. He was gingerly leaning on one foot and appeared to be flexing the other – apparently having just kicked the metal bars and appearing as if he very much regretted throwing his cigarette away.

Apparently feeling Malik's eyes upon him, mahogany eyes lifted to meet semi-amused lavender ones and his face steeled almost immediately. With an air of fake nonchalance that was entirely unconvincing he muttered, "I knew there was a reason that I hated her more than usual of late."

Lavender eyes observed with amusement as Rabastan's long spindly fingers sought out and lit another cigarette, without hesitation he chimed in a patented voice of wisdom, "those things will kill you, you know.."

A bitter sneer crossed the mans face as he flicked glowing ashes aside, his free hand reaching up to whisk long strands of dark hair out of his eyes, "have to die of something don't I? I'd personally prefer a terminal disease to being taken out by a judicious feel-good Auror or as a rotting carcass in Azkaban."

His eyes glinted moodily and he took another drag of his cigarette before coughing out a bitter laugh, "that's if the mighty Dark Lord don't take it into his head to knock me off first."

"So that's your plan then," Malik sneered out abruptly with a contemptuous raise of his eyebrows, "you're trying to _depress_ me into an early grave through suicide aren't you?"

At the sharp and decidedly unamused glare from the Death Eater the Egyptian's lips curled in a trace of sadistic glee, "oh, so you're _not _the pity parade then? No wonder this place is so drab, suits your mood doesn't it?"

If he was anyone else the Egyptian might have held his tongue at the daggers that seemed to be sharpening within the Death Eaters eyes.

"Here's a thought – if your life can't _possibly_ suck any more than it already does.. Maybe you should just knock yourself off good and proper right now."

"Or," came the silky soft response that bore a striking resemblance to a razor blade on the tongue, "you could keep your mouth shut – at the risk of having your tongue ripped out for Nagini's morning tea."

One look at the mans dark and noticeably shadowed eyes was enough to still Malik's tongue, he appeared to be perfectly serious.

Another long drag from his cigarette later the man cast a frown at the glowing butt and dropped it with a grunt to floor and grinding it into the ground with his heel.

"I really ought to quit," he muttered more to himself than the sole other occupant of the gloomy space.

Seemingly unable to control the words that spilled from his lips the Egyptian fully prepared himself to dodge whatever sharp or burning object might be thrown at him as he sneered, "you really _are _just a ray of sunshine aren't you?"

"Is it your mission in life to be found as a gruesome unidentifiable corpse? Because let me tell you now kid, if it is, then you're _well _on your way to achieving your goal."

"What can I say," Malik drawled in response, eyes fixing lazily upon the man whose eyes were now inspecting the ground-down cigarette butt with a hint of longing, "I'm a high achiever."

Malik thought he caught the Death Eater rolling his eyes, but, when the mans stony stare fixed upon him he figured he had imagined it.

"Let me guess," was the gruff yet decidedly cold deduction, "you're not going to tell us a single thing about that sodding tablet, are you?"

The burst of applause from the Egyptian made the Death Eaters brows contract in irritation even before he drawled in a sing-song tone, "_annnnd Bingo was his name-o._"

With one last calculating look at the Tomb Keeper, stretched out across the floor looking for all the world like he _wasn't _stretched to the very ends of his strength, the Death Eater gave a cold almost conciliatory nod of his head and swept lazily towards the doorway he had come from.

"I give you a day kid, whatever else you might say about my charming sister-in-law, she knows how to inflict pain."

And with a charming half-bow and an eccentric little smile the man departed with his burst of wand light, leaving Malik only the comfort of his parting words and the cradle of a crooning shadow.

'_Always, always alone._'

* * *

Long after the Wizarding population of the household had retired to their beds for the evening Seto Kaiba found himself preparing for what looked to be a tedious assault on the tower of paperwork that was beginning to resemble the Eiffel Tower – or at least Seto assumed it would if it weren't in digital form.

It was a task that Seto was counting on to be tedious and mind-numbingly boring – something he needed more than he would _ever_ acknowledge with the weight of Malik Ishtar's capture hanging like thunderclouds over his head.

Trying to figure out the reasons were easy enough – it was clear that the tablet that the Ishtar's had unearthed had sparked a lotof interest ( a testament to the dark magic that it fair _reeked _of.) The reason why the resident Villain wanted it was decidedly clear as well – Seto understood all too well about the thrall of power.

It was as the elder Kaiba closed the door to his room of choice that he realized that he was not alone.

Perched stone-still on the window sill and half-cast in a wash of orange streetlight the form of Ryou Bakura seemed completely adrift in another world, his lips curled in a private smile and his eyes glowing like the dying embers of a fire in the orange light.

Subconsciously Seto hesitated before claiming his usual chair and flicking open his laptop. He had been typing for several minutes before he realized that Ryou was watching him, his lips twisted in a strange manner. With a brief and fleeting moment of regret cast upon the unfinished spreadsheet glowing on his computer screen Seto turned narrowed blue eyes on the solemn other occupant of the room.

"What?"

One of the white-haired boys knees had been tucked up on the window-sill with him, cradled against his chest by long pale arms, the other swung idly, untied laces just brushing the carpet floor. With his large solemn eyes and wisps of white hair framing his face he reminded Seto instinctively of the strangely hypnotic gaze of Harry Potters owl.

"Something has happened," was the quiet response as the boy batted a strand of snow-white hair idly away.

A brief fleeting glimpse of horrified faces and furious shouting crossing the elder Kaiba's mind caused an ironic smile to cross his lips and an eyebrow to raise sardonically, "a _lot _has happened."

A smile quirked the other boys lips and his gaze turned back to the black skies that were almost obscured by a strange swirling fog outside.

"There is something in the air. I fear something terrible has happened." (**8**)

There were no grand dramatics to accompany this pronouncement, no shining eyes or quivering lips, just the same solemn tone and statuesque face. Not for the first time Seto Kaiba found himself wondering how it had been so very easy to dismiss Ryou Bakura as so utterly insignificant.

"Something terrible is nearly a guarantee," was the careful response as Seto felt Set's presence stir in his mind, "it _is_ War."

Another quaint smile touched the white-haired boys lips yet he said nothing, raising a finger to trace something into the misted window pane.

"It's cold tonight," he observed quietly.

Seto's eyebrow raised and he clicked his laptop shut to fix a calculative stare on Ryou's face. He got the distinct impression that the white-haired boy was trying to tell him something and going the longest way possible about doing so.

'_You'll have to play his game if you want your answers Omote,_' was the solemn advice from a watchful Set, '_the Tomb Robber is perceptive, he sees what others do not. Don't take him lightly._'

"The Summer is almost over," Seto replied, his eyes fixed firmly on the faint reflection he was able to glean from the window pane.

A ghost of a smile whipped across the other boys face and Seto's eyes fixed firmly on the image that Ryou had traced onto the window.

'_Udjat_,' Set supplied quietly through Seto's mind. (**9**)

"These wizards are not as friendly as they once were, are they?" Ryou murmured conversationally, his eyes fixed on the pin-pricks of the stars he could discern beyond the icy fog.

Seto found himself shifting in his chair – the white-haired boy was, by his nature, not prone to speaking to often. This sudden conversational trend was unnerving at best.

"They are scared of your power – by the long line of," a brief flicker of laughter echoed in the boys eyes, "_coincidences_ that occur in your presence. But still – it is not you," a slender pale hand was waved at the world outside, "it's in the air."

"What is it that you're really trying to tell me?" Seto snapped with a flare of impatience that sparked in his eyes. The whimsical raise of the other boys eyebrows did little to placate him.

"You always_ have_ been impatient, Kaiba, bending time into scheduled little boxes to suit you. It hasn't worked so well of late though – has it?"

Silence reigned for a few moments upon them both, the white haired boy worrying his lip as he turned back to the window, his breath fogging up the window pane as he gave a visible shudder. He took another deep breath, turning his unnaturally solemn eyes back upon the stars before murmuring, "Mars is bright tonight." (**10**)

Seto had to clench his teeth to keep from uttering the thought that had come to mind, his eyes watching as a pale hand wiped away the condensation from the window. It seemed that the effort on Seto's part was acknowledged as the boy elaborated suddenly.

"There are eyes in this house, they watch _us –_ they watch you. A traitor hides in the midsts of our allies."

Seto frowned and raised an eyebrow, "I was aware of a spy."

"Of course you were," was the almost indignant response, "it is not the spy that concerns _you._"

For the first time the boys face changed, his brows furrowing in a sign of irritation.

"I have consulted my cards many times since this all began," his lips pursed briefly before he continued, "all I have ever seen is a great battle ahead."

At the beginning of a disgusted groan from Seto the other boy shot him a sharp look.

"From now on Kaiba you really _are_ alone. Trust _no one._"

With a soft thud the boy landed on his feet and cast one last look out the window before heading towards the doorway.

"There's more than just hostility in the air Kaiba, eyes you didn't even know existed watch you," was his quiet murmur.

Fighting back the urge to respond with a typically scathing remark the elder Kaiba narrowed his eyes.

"And what of you?"

A decidedly demonic smile flashed across the boys face that made Seto's skin crawl.

"Like you said Kaiba – it is _war. _It is time I made it one."

The door snapped shut behind the white-haired boy leaving Seto to thoughts much darker than those he had entered with.

"He was right about one thing," came the soft mutter from the Spirit of the Rod as he came pacing into view, stopping before the window to peer out at the dark streets.

Seto quirked an eyebrow inquisitively.

A curious smile crossed the spirits lips as he turned to face his reincarnation with an unidentifiable expression on his face.

"Mars _is _bright tonight."

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1. **For an unknown reason the word 'Wench' is endlessly amusing to me.. And I will add, for the benefit of those who _do _like Yuugi-tachi, these are my interpretations of Kaiba's opinions – not necessarily my own.  
**2. **Ahem.. Anyone who wishes to hazard a guess as to just _what _it was that Mister Ishtar stole from our resident Tomb Robber way-back-when right around now.. Be my guest.  
**3. **First tastes of the Gypsy storyline.. This will be explained in greater detail in the Otogi storyline, but for those too impatient to wait I'll give some general information.. Basically a few centuries before our story takes place the races of the Gypsies and Wizards got into a bit of strife. The Wizards (presumably our 'conquering nation') did what all conquering nations do and created some fairly nasty enemies, the Gypsies retaliated creating some nasty cursed-creatures upon the way and it turned into an all-out War. These were called the "Gypsy Wars" which raged for close to a century and were never truly resolved, only coming to brief pause when the Wizarding World enforced an exile upon the 'rebel' Clans and they moved out of the British Isles and Europe. The relations between the Gypsy Clans and Wizarding Families remain hostile (due to _infamously _long memories on the Gypsy side) and the Wars are dusted under the carpet in Wizarding Society due to the decidedly bad light they put the Wizarding Race in. They are not in the curriculum of Hogwarts and only documented in certain books.. And that's all your getting for now.  
**4. **.. And _thats _what gets results..  
**5**. Improbable as it is that a Death Eater would quote Hamlet, that would be dear Rabastan Lestrange. I'm interested to know what you make of his first impression, is he _too _eccentric?  
**6**. -grins- Anyone _else _see the irony?  
**7**. Anyone wish to hazard a guess as to _which _mystic our dear Malik refers to?  
**8**. Now, assuming you've all ready Half-Blood Prince, anyone have any idea which particular event could have caused this change in the air this early in the year?  
**9. **'_Udjat_' is known as many things, but you'd all probably identify it with the Eye of Horus which features upon each of the Sennen Items.. and yes, there _is _a reason for it appearing here, to quote Rabastan, "isn't there always a bloody reason?"  
**10. **A line that you all _should _recognize..

**

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AN: Well, I can safely say that all distractions are finally gone from my writing, which unfortunately for you, means that I shall soon be acquiring new distractions to replace the old ones. It has been a _long _time since I last updated so hopefully this will be enough to tide you over for what should be a considerably shorter update time. This chapter proved a heinous challenge to write for many reasons, the biggest being that it was the first introduction of the 'Death Eater' part of the equation. I'm terribly interested to know what you think of Rabastan in particular for my sanities sake – he's been a right bastard to write. All who left signed reviews will be receiving your replies shortly.. or rather now, unsigned replies shall be here;  
Happy Holidays!**Well, I can safely say that all distractions are finally gone from my writing, which unfortunately for you, means that I shall soon be acquiring new distractions to replace the old ones. It has been a time since I last updated so hopefully this will be enough to tide you over for what should be a considerably shorter update time. This chapter proved a heinous challenge to write for many reasons, the biggest being that it was the first introduction of the 'Death Eater' part of the equation. I'm terribly interested to know what you think of Rabastan in particular for my sanities sake – he's been a right bastard to write. All who left signed reviews will be receiving your replies shortly.. or rather now, unsigned replies shall be here;Happy Holidays!

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**Kyia Star: **Ooh, interesting point. I assume that the interference at the House of Black, while still being pretty bad, wouldn't be nearly so bad as to completely block the lines (unlike at Hogwarts). My theory being that while they could use it, they wouldn't get terribly good reception.  
**Rotem: **Well, more.. After a long, _long _wait..  
**Dartz'LoyalServant: **Very close with the number seven, as that's part of the reason. Cucumber envy too was a good guess, though I was going for the "cool as a cucumber" phrase the "green with envy" one worked well as well. Book 6.. was a hell of a shock to me, I'm coming to terms though.. Doesn't mean I'm happy. I dub thee, Semi-Smart Cookie  
**Kiki: **Ah, I'm afraid thats just my style. Sorry that its confusing for you, I intend to revisit the story once I have finished to try and smooth the transition a bit. It's just a _tad _disjointed at the moment.  
**Nachzes Black Rider: **I'm afraid that everything is already in motion, poor wee Malik. Well done with the Cucumber Envy and as for the number seven, also very very good. You'll notice that a lotof magic revolves around the number seven. You can be Miss Smart Cookie.  
**SchizThePlushieThief: **Very well done, another element to slip into the 'seven' puzzle. There _is _a reason why all of these magical items and rituals use the number seven.. and it _isn't _just cause Richie McCaw wears the number seven jersey.. -cough- I dub thee, Smart Cookie.  
**BH: **I felt kind of guilty after doing that to Ron, but it _was _necessary – after all, I doubt it was feasible to have our King of Games lose _any _game; especially so close to.. Haha, almost got me there. My only compensation is that the way I see it, Yuugiou only ever challenges Champions – all the others challenge_ him.._ And I do believe you encompassed it all into one lovely package for our "Seven" question. Seven is considered to be the most powerful magical number; which is represented in Voldemorts choice for how many Horcruxes to make, the number of Sennen Items and numerous other little nuances scattered through the HP books and for that matter the series of YGO. The Gypsies I don't blame you for as they are entirely of my creation at least in a HP sense, I'm the poor dear that decided to create an entire history for them simply because I always thought that Otogi was gypsy-like. And once again it was the "cool as a cucumber" reference I was going for – though the other cucumber euphemism sounds a great deal more amusing. I declare you THE official smart cookie.  
**Achika: **Yes, yes, well done you. Glad that the Bill and Charlie scene went off well, brotherly banter is _always _fun.  
**Mackenzie:** I rock? Damn straight I do.. Cheers buddy!  
**Eden's Echo:** Yeahp, dear Mariku will be making his grand entrance rather soonish. I can assure you now that he won't be joining Voldemort, is it just me or does Mariku seem like more of a_ solo_ outfit? I don't see him playing nice with the other puppies if you get my drift. You can safely assume that Sirius and Otogi are rubbing off on one another – it's inevitable really. And my chess scene was a hit! What more could a girl ask for..  
**Darkdaisy:** You do realize that you played a great part in inspiration for Moody's little gypsy rant – I laughed for about ten minutes straight after reading your review.. Though I'm afraid these gypsies aren't really in the mood to "lift up your spirit with music."  
**Arius:** Mm, remember the blood. Remember it well..

* * *

"_We wanna go out and play on our own because when you're an opening band, people throw things at you. I don't mind when somebody who loves my band throws a shoe at me, ya know, because it's with love.._" 


	24. Smoke and Mirrors

**

* * *

**

Book One of Eight;

**_Chasing the Dragon_**

**-Chapter Twenty** **Three-  
**Smoke and Mirrors.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

"Don't you think that fog is strange?"

Seto Kaiba's eyes rose wearily toward the window pane where the faintly translucent spirit of the Priest stood illuminated in the pale light.

It was morning, he realized with a repressed yawn, and a gloomy one at that. It seemed that the nights icy mists weren't going anywhere any time soon.

"Depriving yourself of sleep won't make your problems disappear omote," was the infuriatingly sage advice from a suddenly hovering Set whose dark eyes were boring into him even as he avoided them.

"But it does help with the workload," was his cool retort as he eased his laptop shut and rolled his neck with an audible pop.

Fingers swished hastily through his hair as he made to stand on stiff and unwilling legs.

"You have not yet recovered from the other night, it is hardly the time to be missing sleep to catch up on your work."

Seto's eyes narrowed as he moved towards the window with a twist of annoyance spiking his lips, "You're beginning to sound like that Weasley woman again."

Set matched his steps with irritation beginning to glow in his eyes.

With annoyance clear in the set of his features and the determined line of his lips Seto met the High Priest's eyes in a frank stare, "I do _not _need looking after Set."

Set's challenge was written all over his face, from the partial raise of his eyebrow to the twitch at the corner of his lips. This alone was enough for Seto to turn a fierce gaze upon the window and to slam the sill with both palms in his frustration, "I took care of both Mokuba _and _myself for a _long _time before.."

When the elder Kaiba trailed off suddenly Set took another step toward him and outstretched a hand to brush his shoulder lightly, eyes shining with irritation that was beginning to turn to exasperation.

"_What_?"

Seto brushed the hand away stonily with his eyes fixed upon the swirling mists and drab city-scape of early morning London, "It doesn't matter."

"You're behaving like a child," Set declared with a frown settling over his features.

Seto turned his head stiffly to fix a fierce stare upon his other half in open protest, "I am _not _a child."

"And _yet_ you're acting like one," Set retorted, smugness staining his lips.

A sneer touched the elder Kaiba's lips yet his eyes remained stationary upon the window, watching as a lone brave soul jogged down the early morning streets with tired eyes. After several moments of quiet deliberation and watching the brightly colored clothing of the jogger disappear into the mists he finally spoke without even a feigned attempt at warmth, "Before _you._"

If Set was surprised his face didn't show it.

"I don't need a _parent,_ Set, I can look after myself just fine."

Set's eyebrows raised as though surprised yet his lips twitched with a knowing smile.

"For Mokuba's part you're quite right, you have taken care of him admirably. But in your case I must disagree, you are incapable of taking care of yourself."

Back-lit in the grey light of early morning Seto's anger was softened in a most unintentional way.

Chestnut hair glowed in the soft-light, shadows obscuring that singularly rare shade of blue of his eyes and his lips were a sharp barbed line that seemed infinitely ready to bite. His spine had straightened, shoulders squared and neck craned high to use what meager height he had over the other to his advantage. Yet over this was a haze of exhaustion that not even Seto's stoniest of faces could obscure. It was curious, to Set, how doll-like his reincarnation seemed when one couldn't see the tumultuous fury of those eyes.

"I have rebuilt an entire corporation into something to be _proud _of. I have become one of the most successful people under the age of twenty to ever walk this earth and I did it _alone. _I didn't need any-ones help then and I don't need _yours _now."

"But still, you want it."

There was a stretch of silence in which Seto's stare locked upon the half-smiling apparition of Set who had maneuvered himself so very delicately that Seto found himself wryly impressed.

"Well omote? I thought you'd have figured this out by now.."

Seto was sure that the Spirit's eyes were mocking him.

"Don't make me say it for you."

Oh yes, he was _definitely _mocking him.

"You know that I will."

Seto's lips twitched in agitation and he rolled his eyes in an open expression of _his _opinion on the matter.

The elder Kaiba brother was quite sure had never wanted anything quite so much in his life as he wanted Set to suddenly keep his mouth shut.

"I _heard _that, if I didn't know you better I might be offended."

Seto snorted contemptuously and attempted to evade the High Priests suddenly too near presence.

"If you _did _know me better than you would be offended," he replied with a hint of his usual punch flavoring his tone.

"Oh, but I _do _know you omote," the spirit declared with a wicked curl of his lips and a counter step to thwart his reincarnations evasions, "Which is why I know there's nothing that you like better than having someone right in your face."

"You're an idiot," Seto retorted with another step aside.

"I'm _right_," Set replied with a victorious gleam flashing in his eyes.

"Which is _why_," Set continued taking another step into his reincarnations space and sending him back another, "I know that you secretly don't hate the _'mutt'_ as much as you say you do."

"Strike idiot," Seto sneered as his back brushed the windowsill, "you're delusional. All those years cramped in little dark spaces is finally taking its toll."

Set's eyebrows rose marginally as his hands clamped down on the windowsill to either side of his reincarnations hips.

"It's _also _why you persist in tormenting my dear Cousin," the Priests lips quirked, "You get a kick out of seeing him rise to your challenge _every _time."

"Delusional isn't a strong enough word," Seto sneered back with a bark of laughter, "_You_ make Ishtar look like a stable and functioning part of society."

"_And_," the Priest persisted with a lazy tap of his finger in the center of his reincarnations chest, "It's why you can _never _agree with a single word I say."

Another rush of laughter escaped the elder Kaiba's lips and he cocked an eyebrow to mirror his amusement, "_That's _because you're always wrong Set. Not because I have some secret agenda in making you angry."

Feigned surprise rolled over Set's face that didn't for a second fool the now smirking Seto.

"It's about power isn't it, Omote? You just can't _stand_ the idea of relying on another human being."

"But according to _you _I have a fetish for provoking them." (**1**)

The spirit cocked his head to eye his reincarnation with humor glittering in his dark eyes, "Shall we refer to your track-record, Omote?"

"Shall we refer to _yours?_"

Set leaned forwards, his lips a taunting smirk and his voice lowered to barely more than a whisper, "Just face it, you want nothing more than for someone to have your back, just like the Mutt looks out for my Cousin."

Seto looked more than ready to protest when the Priest's lips quirked and a spark of dark mischief seemed to ignite within his eyes.

"_You_," he declared with a soft jab of his finger to the center of his reincarnations chest to emphasize each word he spoke, "Want _me._"

The stunned expression on his reincarnations face was more than reward enough for Set, after all, he hadn't been aware that Seto Kaiba _could _blush.

The usually eloquent elder Kaiba appeared to be having trouble stringing two words together, not that _that _would ever stop a Kaiba. With only that one spark of resistance beating at his chest like a drum Seto did what was perhaps the most illogical problem solving method he had ever put into practice.

He grabbed the spirit by his_ far_-too tangible collar and crushed his lips against that smugly coiled mouth.

After all, he'd be damned if Set would get the last word.

If either had had sufficient grasps of their surroundings they might have noticed the door as it snapped shut or the muffled voice that suddenly burst within the hallway.

Later on Seto would only swear that he had heard two words ringing in the background of his thoughts; and they went something along the lines of..

"_Bloody_ hell!" (**2**)

* * *

The breakfast table that morning in the House of Black was uncommonly uncomfortable. It seemed that overnight a frost had crept inside to chill the attitudes of the occupants to a biting wintry temperature.

If Seto had cared it might have almost been worrying.

As it was there was a genuinely frosty silence upheld by the different sections of the table, littered with many a hostile stare most of which, it seemed, were directed at Seto himself. The only exception being the youngest Weasley brother, whose occasional glances in Seto's direction instead caused him to turn a violent shade of red and mutter something along the lines of, "_bloody hell_," under his breath.

Entirely unsurprised (though maybe somewhat unnerved) the elder Kaiba doused the haze of morning with his usual shot of caffeine and turned his attention to the front page of the Daily Prophet which was, predictably, the bearer of the usual bad tidings.

Today's headline read; '_Dementor's Desert Azkaban: Another Ministry Fudge Up._'

Seto's lip twitched in interest. It seemed that Ryou had not been wrong when he had supposed that something 'terrible' had happened.

A quick glance in the white-haired boy's direction found him in a contemplative silence, thoroughly ignoring the prodigiously bad temper of his neighbour, Otogi, who was stabbing at his waffles viciously.

More than one nervous look was being spared in the Game Creators direction.

Opposite Seto a silent and weary looking Yuugi was nursing a glass of pumpkin juice and sparing troubled looks upon the assembled group.

At his side Seto found Mokuba, who was scowling at his plate of untouched toast in a singularly foul mood. Occasionally his eyes would shoot irritably in Seto's direction before returning to his breakfast. Seto was certain that he was in for a long and tedious lecture concerning his personal well-being anytime soon.

With a roll of his eyes he returned half of his attention to the paper and half to the only remotely cheerful resident of the table. As it was the baby dragon's tiny scampering presence had already stretched the matron of the households temper almost to breaking point.

With a surge of appreciation for the tiny creature, Seto absently offered it a piece of bacon from the serving platter as it scampered passed him down the table. Molly Weasley sent him a particularly frosty look as the the tiny opal-eye accepted the offering and settled down to crunch through it beside Seto's coffee mug.

The eldest Kaiba didn't bother to hide his newly acquired smirk until he felt a sharp pain in his shin and replaced it for a dark glare in Atemu's direction.

The King of Games raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence and raised his orange juice in a silent toast.

"Charlie," the Weasley matron abruptly snapped with a suddenness that had the wizard in question snapping to attention in his chair, "How many times do I have to tell you _not _to bring that thing to the table!"

The second-eldest accepted a look of compassion from his elder brother before protesting in a carefully reasonable tone, "He's just a baby Mum, I can't leave him on his own."

A scowl pinched her lips as she seated herself with a mug of tea in hand and her eyes took in the image of the baby dragon, crunching up the last of its bacon between its back teeth, its eyes a contented soft gold. If it was a cat she imagined it would be purring.

"That's not a baby," she declared stiffly, "It's a monster."

"Now now Mum, that's no way to be talking about Ron.."

The cheerful declaration came from the doorway like a breath of fresh air in the Kitchen, the pair of identical beaming faces were a welcome change to a decidedly gloomy atmosphere, even as Ron scowled in their direction.

"I mean," Fred declared as he swanned passed his brother to pull back a chair next to Charlie, "He may not be the pick of the litter but he's still family.."

George flashed a wider grin as he took a seat next to his eldest Brother and reached for a piece of toast, "At least, until we can prove he isn't human, that is."

"Oh, that's enough you two!" the Weasley matron declared as she rushed to her feet to put another kettle on the stove, her rebuke filled with a warmth that had been decidedly lacking all morning, "You didn't say you were coming to visit!"

After snagging a piece of already buttered toast from his brother's plate George reached for the pumpkin juice and replied cheerfully, "We decided that it was high time we had a break."

"We've been terribly busy," Fred added to Charlie as he reached passed him to grab an apple from a platter further down the table.

George cast a grimace at his twin before turning his head back to his mother to continue where he had left off, "We've just received a ton of new orders from the Ministry, you'd think they'd at least be capable of a decent shield charm wouldn't you?"

Fred's lips curled in a wry smile which he cast at a decidedly sleepy looking Harry Potter whose head of raven hair was even more tousled than usual, "Not everyone was fortunate enough to have the savior of the Wizarding World teach them defense."

A spark of vague interest touched Seto's lips at the scowl of response that the Weasley twin was thrown by the yawning Harry.

The twins shared a grin at the reaction before George seemed to remember he had been interrupted and replaced his grin with a brief scowl, "_Anyway_, we've been so bogged down with orders lately that we decided we needed a break to re-energize."

"You mean skive off," Ginny retorted with a sweet smile in her brothers' direction that made them cast ominously cheerful grins at her in response.

"_Hardly _Ginevra, Kaiba himself will back us up, it's good management skills to know when you're overworked and in need of a break."

Mokuba let out a derisive snort at his side and shot a snarky look at his elder brother, "Like that's something _he_ would know anything about."

The twins exchanged amused glances and Fred clucked his tongue softly before muttering, "Trouble in paradise is it?"

Seto cast a stony glare at the pair over the top of his newspaper before returning to it with a faint frown cast in his younger brother's direction. Mokuba _must _have been annoyed with him to have snapped like that in the presence of others. Clearly the Weasley twins had rubbed salt into an old wound.

With no reply and seemingly no intent of one happening, the twins exchanged vaguely interested stares before turning their attention elsewhere.

Meanwhile, Seto endeavored to ignore the Weasley twins and for that matter, their younger brother, whose staring and consequential blushing was beginning to get somewhat distracting. Thus it was that their conversation dulled, however briefly, into vague mutterings in the back of his conscience.

"_Charlie_ -!"

" - Always knew there was a reason for the lack of girl action in your life.."

"- Aren't you going to introduce us?"

Seto felt a spray of something sticky and wet as the second eldest Weasley spluttered his pumpkin juice over the surrounding area. With visible distaste the elder Kaiba lowered his newspaper to level one of his more imposing glares upon the bright-pink Weasley brother and wiped the back of his hand on the table-cloth with a curl of disgust on his lips.

Noticing Seto's glare the Weasley brother made an attempt to stammer out an embarrassed apology while murder gleamed in his eyes but paused abruptly as the tiny dragon began to lap experimentally at the back of Seto's hand with a rough pink tongue.

"Well that's unattractive," Fred muttered with a visible grimace and a raise of his eyebrow.

Charlie cast a sarcastic glare in his brothers direction and cast a hasty glance down the table to where a thoroughly amused Ryuuji Otogi was now watching with a cat-like smile and a casually raised eyebrow. The sarcastic and mockingly flirtatious wave that the Game Creator sent his way turned the Dragon Keeper a vivid shade of red.

"Well, we haven't met _you _yet," George suddenly declared into what was a steadily growing uncomfortable silence, his eyes fixed on Yuugi with a fascination that was obviously disconcerting.

"Or you," Fred added with a blank, yet equally interested look in Bakura's direction.

"Or _you_," George added with growing interest as they fixed on the still half-smirking Otogi as he reclined in his chair.

Fred's eyes turned to meet his twin's with a feigned look of confusion, "Are you _sure_ this is the right house?"

"How many secret headquarters do you suppose there _are?_" was the patient response as George took his role.

"In this street alone I'd hazard at _least _half a dozen.."

"You two!" Mrs Weasley chided with a fond smile growing on her lips despite the harsh tone, "We were worried! What with this whole business with the Dementors, the Prophet says London's over-run with them."

Only one person saw the color drain from Otogi's face before he sent a knife clattering to the floor and ducked beneath the table to retrieve it.

"You know what the Prophet is like though Mum," one of the Twins replied with a roll of his eyes and a large bite from his apple, "Bunch o' drama queens if there ever were any."

The other twin had bent across the table and was muttering quietly to the clustered group of younger Wizards in obvious hearing range to the eldest Weasley sibling who had a strange expression on his face as he eyed the spot from which Otogi had yet to resurface.

"Still," Mrs Weasley added hesitantly, "Shouldn't you two be at your shop, just in case?"

"Like we said," Fred replied with a winning smile in his mother's direction, "We awarded ourselves a day off, thought you lot could benefit from some good old fashioned merriment."

"And fun-having," George added as he sank back into his seat, "Seeing how _broody _you lot are, I'm beginning to think someone must have spiked your tea with U-No-Poo."

"Which is why," Fred announced with a brief glance down the table which was met with a nod from his twin, "We're taking you all out for some Quidditch."

The horror on Molly Weasley's face was incomparable.

"Nothing beats the blues like a good old fashioned Quidditch match."

Seto noted, with a raise of his eyebrow, that _that _didn't quite ring true if Molly Weasley's reaction was anything to go by.

The rest of the table, however, was spotted with wistful gazes that shone like starlight in the otherwise gloomy eyes of the assembled party.

It was almost nauseating.

"I – I don't think that that's a very good idea," Mrs Weasley began as she shook off the shock of the initial statement.

"Oh go on Mum," Ron interrupted with an enthusiastic smile, "How can you expect Harry to go back to Hogwarts without getting _any _practice in? He's Quidditch Captain!"

A hesitant look in the direction of the Boy Who Lived met those bright green eyes that were shining with a spark of hope.

Seto had to admit, the kid was good.

Mrs Weasley's resolve wavered visibly, chewing her bottom lip with a hesitance that was warring with the urge to oblige her sons.

"I think that it's a splendid idea," was the calm input from Remus Lupin as he buttered his toast before raising his head to meet Molly's eyes with a pointed stare, "We've all seen the consequences that can come of being trapped inside these walls for too long."

Molly looked almost affronted.

Remus himself seemed faintly surprised at his own input but hid it behind a smile at the beaming looks the twins sent him.

"You ought to listen to him Mum, best bloody teacher we ever had," Fred declared with a wide grin.

"In more ways than one," Harry muttered beneath his breath.

While Mrs Weasley still looked unconvinced, Atemu was growing steadily more perplexed and with a suddenness that was entirely uncharacteristic of the composed ex-Pharaoh he suddenly interrupted, "What _is _Quidditch?"

A mixture of shock and horror plagued the faces of the majority of the seated Wizards as they turned towards the stubbornly questioning crimson gaze that the Pharaoh turned upon them.

"You.. You don't know what Quidditch is?" Ron asked, his voice weak with disbelief.

"That's not right," Charlie muttered to himself with a discrete shake of his head as he let Kleidon clamber up his arm.

"Imagine that," Otogi drawled loudly, "A game that Yuugiou_ hasn't_ heard of."

Atemu cast a frown in the Game Creator's direction yet Otogi merely met his stare with a brazen smirk as the Pharaoh's fingers brushed absently over the triangular bulge beneath his t-shirt.

Catching the confused looks that were being directed at the Game Creator, Ryou translated with a curious curl of his own lips, "It means King of Games."

One of the muscles above Seto's eyebrow twitched.

Mokuba's lips curled faintly and he nudged his brother lightly in the side with a visible gleam in his eyes, "It's alright 'nii-sama, I'm sure you'll beat him some day."

Seto wasn't sure whether Mokuba was encouraging or mocking him.

Ron didn't appear to have noticed the diversion as he suddenly declared, "The best bloody game in the world is what it is."

If Ron Weasley had known the havoc that that one phrase would cause at that moment in time, he just might have kept his mouth shut – or at least waited until he had a viable escape route planned.

As it was he found three very imposing glares fix upon him with a heat that could have flayed the skin right off of his body.

"I've never even _heard-_"

"-_You _wouldn't know a great game if it -"

"It couldn't even _compare-_"

Three simultaneously spoken sentences halted abruptly and their speakers leveled narrowed stares upon one another. At Seto's side Mokuba grinned widely as Otogi suddenly finished with a petulant flourish and color rising in his cheeks, "If it bit you on the ass and called you _mommy!_"

Bewildered stares turned on the genuinely affronted Game Creator as his eyes flashed ominously.

Seto found himself genuinely struggling to keep his composure at the bewildered expression clouding Atemu's face and had no intentions of stopping Otogi as he slapped his hands simultaneously down on the table with a resounding clatter.

"- _Besides _it's not like I have all the resources in the bloody universe to fall back on, _Kaiba,_" green eyes jerked in Seto's direction, "Pegasus can only really do so much - and _how _the hell am I supposed to promote when I keep on getting dragged into these ludicrous adventures? Every _single _time I take the courtesy of visiting you lot. I knew I should have avoided you, Mutou," he added with an accusing stare fixing upon the Pharaoh, "My grandmother always said to never trust a dwarf."

Atemu's jaw dropped.

"I should have gotten out when all that hokey GHOULS stuff started.. I mean, whats so _wrong _with just sending a bloody POSTCARD?"

Panting and obviously not entirely stable the Game Creator leveled his gaze on a startled Charlie Weasley who managed to choke out a bewildered, "Nothing I suppose.."

"You suppose?" Otogi scoffed with a roll of his strangely grey-tinged eyes as he kicked back his chair with a raise of his eyebrow and shook his hair off of his shoulders with a scowl. (**3**)

Leveling a glare upon the decidedly startled Ron Weasley he folded his arms and kicked his booted feet up on the table, ignoring the protests of Molly Weasley while he was at it.

"Here's a tip," Mokuba murmured as he lent around a yawning Harry to get to Ron with a cheeky grin touching his face, "Next time you're in a house full of champion gamers.. Or for that matter _inventors,_" he added with a wry glance in Otogi's direction, "_Don't _insult their game."

The red-head winced under the unrelenting green gaze.

Fred and George looked like all their April Fool's Day's had come at once. (**4**)

"Brilliant," Fred declared with a hurried clap of his hands, "So, Quidditch all round then!"

* * *

A trail of tobacco smoke dawdled lazily through the stagnant air, itching at the protesting nostrils of Malik Ishtar, who felt for all the world as if he had died and been dragged back into a reluctant body.

He didn't need to see the man to know who it was that stood in such cold silence, yet he cracked open a pair of weary eyes to focus upon the vague silhouette he could discern from the burning cigarette butt.

"You survived," Rabastan finally spoke, his eyes filled with a cold appraisal and a touch of astonishment.

The laugh that crawled up the Egyptian's throat was as dry and cracked as the peeling skin of his lips and wheezed through the air in something of a pained whine.

"So it would seem," was the hissed response as he shifted his back against the grimy stone wall and turned his head towards the doorway, his cheek warm against the cold stone, "What do I win for my troubles?"

To add to all of his troubles words seemed to have difficulty forming upon a swollen and sloth-like tongue that lolled in his mouth uselessly and left him panting for air.

In an act that Malik couldn't help but appreciate a bottle of what he assumed to be water sloshed to a halt against his hip. Half-glazed eyes targeted the cold face of Rabastan Lestrange as he took another drag of his cigarette before he fumbled for the bottle with a soft gasp as his muscles screamed.

"You know," the Death Eater suddenly observed as he leaned in the door frame, eyes fixed upon the barred window of Malik's cell in passing interest, "Very few people can endure the Cruciatius Cruse for such a prolonged period of time. Some, the lucky I suppose, die when their muscles give out. Failure in the heart is most common I believe. Others, the less fortunate, are driven insane by the pain.."

He paused to eye Malik thoughtfully as he gulped down the water greedily, great drips spilling down over his chin and sliding down his neck to dampen his shirt. A brief bitter gleam flashed in the man's eyes as he sucked in another drag of his cigarette and his boots scuffed the grubby concrete.

"I once considered becoming a Mediwizard," he explained with a faint furrow of his eyebrows. (**5**)

Malik paused to set the water bottle aside before turning his attention back to the wizard, one eyebrow raised in skeptical amusement.

"Of course," Rabastan continued with a pronounced scowl as his hand waved theatrically through the air and his eyes flashed, "Such _drab_ambitions were not encouraged. It would not do for a Lestrange to consider such an unglamorous profession."

The sneer that formed on his lips was evident, "My parents idea of glamor, it seems, wasn't very educated. They fully supported my initiation into the Dark Lord's service and had I not chosen to, I imagine they might have disowned me."

His eyes gleamed moodily and he took another drag of his cigarette, "After _Rodolphus _joined there wasn't a great deal else that I _could _do anyway.. At least with my areas of expertise," a brief twitch of his lips insinuated a smile, "I was apparently of some _little _use to him."

Malik managed to shift himself into a better position and fixed a skeptical lavender gaze upon the Death Eater, feeling his wit returning in the presence of hydration, "_You _wished to become a healer?"

Rabastan's boots scuffed across the stone.

"And your parents wouldn't let you.. So you went out and became the complete opposite, despite the fact that they _supported _this decision, and you've made it clear that you despised them."

Rabastan's eyes rose to fix on the Egyptian irritably, "That about sums it up, yes."

For a moment the Egyptian peered through the darkness at the dim shadow of a man that he could discern before he began to laugh. His lips baring a glimpse of a long row of teeth and a tongue that lolled lazily as he all but panted out his laughter against disapproving ribs, his arms cradling his rib-cage and his cheek smooshed against the stone wall.

Lavender eyes danced when they re-opened to fix upon the frowning Death Eater and the Egyptian drew his knees towards him, his arms dangling lazily across them as he peered at him with a wry grin crossed his face. "That's _tragic_."

Rabastan crushed his cigarette under his booted heel and averted his gaze to the bare stone wall, his hands digging into his pockets in search of his wand as he muttered his reluctant response of, "_Quite_."

A soft murmur of _'Lumos_' sent the shadows scurrying away and Malik watched with vague interest as the man let out a long breath and turned his eyes back to the Tomb Keeper.

"I once worked as a Curse Breaker for Gringott's in Egypt," he declared in a business-like tone, "For a _very _brief period before all of this," a wide sweeping gesture encapsulated the dank gloom of their surroundings.

Feeling his defenses automatically sliding into place, Malik felt his fingers scrabbling for his pocket automatically. The call and feel of warm gold whispered in his mind gently, smooth and just so big as to fit comfortably in the palm of his hand.. Oh, how it _called._

Rich mahogany eyes observed the subtle change shrewdly and he gripped his wand a little tighter.

"I worked in the tombs a lot, trying to decode the hieroglyphs so that we could ensure there were no disfiguring curses in place. For such a short period of time I got very familiar with a lot of the popular myths," for a moment he paused and eyed Malik curiously.

"Funny how a kid of your age could have such a high threshold for pain.."

For a moment Malik wasn't certain what was happening, he felt as if he had projected himself through mist and fog and darkened veils that stank of fear and craved light. Everything he was surrounded by was twisted and gnarled and it was sickening, to his very core he felt nauseous.. He could see so _very _much.. And he knew, _oh _he knew! _How_ did he..

"You saw them," he whispered with a dazed shake of his head and accusation drawing needle-points into his stare, "You _saw_ my back."

Vague relief hinted within the man's eyes, perhaps that Malik had breached the subject himself. "Your scars bear an intriguing resemblance to many scenes that I have encountered, but most strikingly to that of the tablet I have been charged with interpreting. Curious isn't it? I assume that you were aware..?"

"Intimately," was the hoarse response as the Egyptian groped for the bottle of water at his side, tongue raking at his lips awkwardly as his eyes lingered in some half-forgotten memory of pain and gold and darkness and _awakening.._

"My sister-in-law is quite the expert in torture," Rabastan continued, his words slicing through Malik's thoughts like the touch of a heated blade, "As none of her victims are quite up to telling you," he added with a wry twist of his lips.

"_Merlin _knows that she's been the equivalent of rusty hooks in my side for the duration of my life, but I don't believe even _she _had conceived of the idea of carving into the skin of her victims."

The poisonous expression on Malik's face, if better lit, might have deterred Rabastan from his line of questioning or it might have spurred him on, but the Egyptian's next sentence made him start.

"It takes a special kind of affection to burn tradition into the flesh of your own kin. _My_ father was a singularly affectionate man."

Light bounced around the walls as Rabastan's wand was deposited into a pocket and he began to pat down his pockets in search of his cigarette carton. He didn't even look up as he muttered out, "I can imagine."

"No," was the quiet reply as the Egyptian rolled his head to stare at the ceiling and a shudder descended through his spine, "You _really _can't."

Sucking on an unlit cigarette and fumbling with the carton the Death Eater seemed to be having considerably trouble. When the light returned, however, his face was stony and his eyes fixed.

"Let me blunt then," he declared as he moved to the bars to stare though them, "Do you know anything that will be of value to me?"

His demeanor was rigid, the Egyptian noted with his fingers clutched so very tight around his handful of gold.

"That depends," he murmured with a feeling of warmth and power curling around him, through him, "On what you consider valuable."

His lips curled in a lazy smile, his eyes fixing upon the ceiling as he shifted away from the wall to lay back, his hands cradling his skull as he stared upwards. He fancied that he could see the stars..

An odd expression crossed the Death Eaters face as he leaned against the grill of bars that filled the doorway.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" his question was hesitant and his stare removed, lost in some long-remembered place as the cigarette burned freely in his fingers, forgotten for the time being.

When lavender eyes turned slowly upon the Death Eater he seemed to fight for composure before letting the cigarette drop with a visible start. In it's place he extracted a faintly glowing ball which he began to roll idly over his fingers in an attempt to draw focus from the pained grimace on his face.

"What?"

Malik thought it odd that the man never seemed able to keep his hands still, his eyes followed the smoky glow of the orb with a trace of curiosity. He fancied it was humming to him.

"What my sister-in-law calls interrogation," was the evasive answer that sounded hollow to Malik, "What others call torture."

The orb balanced perfectly in the palm of his hand the Death Eater persisted in his half-distracted mumbling, "Though I'm of the opinion that any time at all spent with dear Bellatrix could legally be classified as torture.."

"I've had worse," the Tomb Keeper replied with a touch of irony gleaming in his eyes as they fixed upon the Death Eater with a keen interest.

Seemingly shaking off the fey mood that had passed him by the Death Eater rolled the glowing sphere over his fingers before holding it through the bars so Malik could get a better look.

"I don't suppose you've ever seen one of these.."

Malik raised an eyebrow and let out a snort of honest amusement that made the Death Eater turn his lips in a neutral sneer.

"You don't _do _the interrogating thing much do you?"

Rabastan looked almost affronted.

"Of course I don't, the Dark Lord keeps his pet lunatics like Bellatrix for _those _causes and he keeps all the important prisoners for himself. _You _however," he added with a gracious nod in Malik's direction, "Are concerned with _my _business and I'd prefer not to have to badger my haggard sister-in-law for information."

With an emphatic nod he crouched down and rolled the glowing ball gingerly across the floor in Malik's direction. Obviously surprised the Egyptian sat up, stopped it with one hand and raised it up to eye-level to inspect it.

It looked, Malik decided, like a hokey new-aged paperweight his sister had once bought at the market. (**6**)

Delicately spun glass was wreathed around a wispy contorting substance. In the darkness it gave off a hazy pale light that was as eerie as the way that Rabastan was watching him.

Altogether it had a mystical air that Malik might have commented on if he hadn't recently had a demonstration to renew his appreciation of just _what _those Death Eaters could do with their wands.

"It's.. a crystal ball? Oh, let me guess! You want me to tell you your fortune!"

Lavender eyes widened visibly, he hadn't intended to say _that _aloud.

"Ah," a flash of something touched Rabastan's face, "I see the Veritaserum is kicking in at last.. I was starting to think that Snape slipped me a dud, the greasy little wan-"

"Not much progress I see."

The cold observation caused Rabastan to visibly flinch and whip his head around to take in the lank dark hair and prominent nose of the aforementioned greasy little wan..

"-_ker_," he finished with a flash of his teeth in the Potions Master's direction.

"I thought I'd observe," Snape declared with a thin smile and a cold black stare, "See what a waste you've made of perfectly good Veritaserum."

If the Potions Master noticed the intense stare he was under he didn't comment, at best he cast a bored off-hand glance through the bars that was fraught with disinterest.

"Why," Malik declared in a drawl of mock delight, "If it isn't the big bad _sneak.._"

Rabastan's eyes turned with visible interest between the pair and his lips curled, "I see you've met our guest before Severus."

"Regrettably," was the cold reply from the Potions Master whose eyes were suddenly fixed determinedly upon Malik's own.

A flash of heat raced through Malik's arm and flooded up his arm, from there it threaded its way through his body before flaring to life behind his eyes. A hiss of pain escaped the Potions Master and he stumbled back, clutching at his eyes.

"What did you _do,_" was the snarl as one pale hand gingerly brushed his eyelids.

"Nothing permanent," was the cool response from a suddenly amused Malik, "_Regrettably._"

Rabastan cast nothing more than a bored glance in his colleagues direction, ignored the snarl that was thrown at him and turned interested eyes back upon the Egyptian.

"Score one for the kid," he mused aloud before waving a hand impatiently at the sphere in Malik's hands, "There is a small catch on the surface – open it."

"You mean you _don't _want me to look into your future?"

A guise of a pout lingered briefly on the Egyptian's lips as he searched out the clasp.. And if the look on Rabastan's face was anything to go by now was definitely not the time to be suggesting a day-trip to the nearest carnival.

"Balls of brass," the Death Eater muttered with a roll of his eyes and ignoring the watery glare of Snape at his side, "Balls of _fucking _brass."

He sounded almost proud.

"I think you'll find that it's glass actually," Malik quipped as his fingers caught upon the clasp and his lips quirked.

Apparently any sense he had, had decided to go numb... Either that or it had done a runner like any sanity he could have ever laid claim to.

Not that he could really _blame _it for doing so, those curses really _were Unforgivable_ – in a '_not even Anzu Mazaki would want to be your friend **now**_**'** kind of way.

.. And Rabastan was watching him with an expectant scowl.

"That orb contains a prophecy that I am convinced is connected with the tablet that.."

"You stole from us?" Malik finished with a raise of his eyebrow.

Snape appeared to be growing impatient.

Rabastan seemed to be enjoying himself – or at least pretending to be to spite his colleague.

"I prefer borrowed without any intention of ever returning so don't bother asking. It's less crass, more.."

"Unnecessarily complex?" Malik mused as he leveled a gaze upon him.

"Precisely."

The Potions Master pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long steadying breath, "This _is _an interrogation is it not Lestrange? I'm sure that the Dark Lord will not forebear your utter worthlessness much longer if you don't even _pretend _to be doing something useful. At least _before _Azkaban you were a useful prick, now I wonder that the Dark Lord didn't simply leave you there to rot.."

Malik realized with vague bemusement that Rabastan's hands were shaking, with an open curiosity he watched him reach hurriedly for his cigarette carton.

"Sod off Snape," he suddenly snapped with a shaking hand as he slipped a new cigarette in his mouth, "Filthy little traitor, it's not often that I agree with Bellatrix, but in your case I'll make an exception. You should have been thrown in Azkaban like everyone else."

Upon his first exhale of smoke the trembling in his hands stopped and he fixed a dark glare on the Potions Master, there was something akin to a mask of amusement on his face.

"Touchy touchy Lestrange.. Worried that I'll tell _Him_ about your constant demand for dreamless sleep potions? Do you want me to tell _Him _why you can't stand the dark? Why you went out and found yourself a filthy Muggle addiction just to keep the shadows out of your _head._"

"Do you want _me,_" Rabastan hissed in response, rounding on his colleague with a menacing snarl, "To tell _Him _that you've been withholding information about our guest here? What _else _are you hiding Snape?"

As they spoke they slowly drifted closer to one another, anger lining each driven face.

Malik turned his focus upon the glowing sphere within his hands, his fingers carefully snapping the catch open. The glass split neatly in half and tumbled to the floor with a tinkling of broken glass, the contents however..

Lavender eyes watched as it swirled into a misty wraith of a strangely familiar-looking woman, dressed in gauzy shawls and with numerous strings of black and gold beads encircling her neck, her eyes a curious shape that seemed to stare straight through him.. When she began to speak it was in a low and unearthly growl that did not fit her appearance at all.

"_On a new world three brothers stand alone and divided; The murderer, the murdered and the true King. The dawn awakens on their broken Kingdom and seeks to mend it as the stone dragon drips in kindred blood and bares his battle-worn teeth.  
On ancient sands two cousins stand united but apart; The bleeding King bares his soul to a mantle of Shadow and a gilded cage under the burning midday sun, the stone dragon lies wounded by deceit and devotion.  
In foreign lands two rivals stand apart but not alone; The dragon master stands tall on an empire built on science and dreams of white and blue, a King stuffs his wound with heart and light and carries his faith in a deck of cards. In the fading twilight they place their trust in hallowed Gold and a game of Magic and Wizards.  
For night will soon fall in this war-torn city, and when the Dark Lord faces anew his marked rival the days are numbered. Three shall become one, and what blood begun, only blood can make undone. In the moments when light and dark collide, morning, noon and night are as one and the Heavens will burn with their divine flesh as the last battle rages; And all the world shall tremble beneath their mighty feet, for never can the cycle end. Night cannot exist with the day and light cannot remain when darkness fades.  
Begun by blood, by blood undone:  
At the hundredth sacrifice,  
the end shall come._" (**7**)

The silence within the room was deafening to the Egyptian whose eyes traced the swirling mists with the dazed beginnings of something awakening in his mind.

"Oh, gods be damned."

The two wizards present turned slowly towards the Egyptian whose features were tense with an obvious fear that was mixed with disbelief, "How do I listen again?"

Lavender eyes shot to Rabastan in sudden demand and with far too much enthusiasm the Death Eater flicked his wand and muttered, "_Reparo_" at the shards of glass that littered the floor.

"You must be careful," he warned with narrowed eyes and a frown, "There are only so many times that we can listen before it becomes worthless. Dust and dirt tampers with the memory.."

Rabastan may as well have been talking to the stone wall for all the notice that the Egyptian was taking, his eyes were fixed upon the repaired glass ball that rested lightly on the floor, the vapor inside it churning unhappily in its captivity.

Closer inspection found the Egyptian to be muttering beneath his breath with a creased brow, his lips forming words that were spoken too low to be discerned by the eagerly watching Death Eater. Within moments the clasp had been reopened and once again the pearly-white haze swirled into form and repeated its message.

When the prophecy once again came to a finish the Egyptian finally turned to look upon the two gathered wizards with a visible shudder and a darkness that burdened his entire being.

"It's the end," he murmured with half-glazed eyes.

"We gathered that much," Snape sneered with a scornful narrowing of his eyes, "It's _been _finished for at least five minutes now."

Lavender eyes landed in bewildered confusion upon the Potions Master before the boy broke out into half-delirious laughter. Rabastan eyed the pair with a frown before summoning the prophecy hurriedly towards him with a hurried, "_Accio,_" at the sound of footsteps approaching.

"Well, it's quite the little party now isn't it?"

Her words dripped with cold disdain as Bellatrix Lestrange strode towards the doorway, her eyes gleaming with a maddened sense of anticipation and her lips a twisted curl.

Cold eyes took in the two wizards with open distaste before she moved towards the barred doorway with barely more than a dismissive sneer in their direction. Her eyes locked down upon the watchful Malik who was still half-chuckling as he lay on his back on the grimy stone-work.

"Are we ready to sing, little bird?"

A winding smile dawdled across the Egyptian's lips as his fingers closed around the warmth of the gold in his pocket, "I thought I was a worm?"

Her eyes darkened ominously before she lent back and rapped her wand sharply against the third bar and snapped out, "_alohomora._"

As the bars slid out of place, she stalked inside, a disdainful arrogant little smile touching upon her thin lips as she ran a finger almost boredly over the slowly healing pink scars that encased almost half of her face.

Malik's attention abruptly shifted to focus in its entirety upon the woman who now paced his suddenly far too small cell.

"If you insist," she replied with a curling lip, "Now, are you going to tell us like a good boy _why _Dumbledore and his lot were so intent on keeping you from us?"

Malik found himself having to bite down on his tongue to keep it from betraying him and found himself wondering just _why _that '_Veritaserum_' or whatever it was that they had called it had finally decided to work properly.

"No answer little boy? Very well, I suppose there's only one thing for it then.."

Malik knew what was coming before she even uttered a word, all he saw was the endless abyss of madness in her dark eyes and a gnarled and twisted soul that bared it's teeth in a snarl as gold enveloped his mind and her curse split the air.

"_Crucio_."

* * *

"I do _not _have time for this."

The words, panted out and accompanied by a growl for good measure, sounded in the convoy of cheerful banter and excitement that seemed to emanate like a light from the group of wizards and witches.

Clearly Seto hadn't caught whatever disease it was that they had contracted since leaving Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and he wasn't sure that he cared to.

With a perfected glare that was designed to convince its recipient of their complete and utter insignificance in the world and a stone-set scowl carved in his face the elder Kaiba looked very much like he wanted to strangle those responsible for his current relocation.

Truth be told, he wasn't entirely sure how it had all happened.

Only the night before Molly Weasley had ranted with disapproval at the very presence of him and "his people" in her household. Her protests against them had been adamant, they were a bad influence.

Hence the confusion.

The elder Kaiba brother rubbed goosebumps from his arms with a wry frown as the traveling wizards spilled out into a wider area and Charlie Weasley bellowed loudly, "We're here!"

'Here' appeared to be a rough clearing encircled by a wooded copse, somewhere in the winding back-country of a grey skied and gloomy slice of England.

And the reason..

"You don't seriously _ride _those flying twigs of death!" was the exclamation from a skeptical Ryuuji Otogi who managed to sound haughty, condescending and somewhat aghast at the same time as he watched Harry go to mount his broomstick.

Just as quickly the Game Creator had let out an undignified squawk as a maniacally grinning Charlie swooped within inched of his fluttering ponytail to come to a halt in front of him.

"Sure we do, want a ride?"

A loud snort of laughter echoed from behind Otogi as Fred and George strolled up behind them, each slinging an arm across one of the Game Creators shoulders as they directed mock-disappointed looks in their brother's direction.

"_Atrocious _pick-up line, Charles." (**8**)

The Dragon Keeper turned pink.

"No wonder you're having trouble finding yourself any sort of action," George continued from where his twin left off, "You could at least try pulling off some of your fancy flying tricks before hand if _that's _the best you have.."

If the twins had been expecting to embarrass the Game Creator as well as their older brother than they were sorely disappointed.

As Charlie looked ready to knock the pair's heads together, Otogi's sharp stare passed between the pair and a dark eyebrow perked upwards as he let out a mocking laugh, "_You're _offering _him _dating advice? Between the two of you I doubt even _Mazaki _would be willing to 'just be friends.'"

The obvious bemusement on all three wizards faces made it clear that they hadn't caught the reference but that didn't seem to bother the Game Creator as he lazily brushed the twins off of him with the experience of a man with a large and particularly fervent fan-club.

Seto's lip twitched and Mokuba let out a low whistle of appreciation, his eyes gleaming as he cast a grin in his brothers direction. For a moment he simply looked at his elder brother before broaching the subject he had been stewing on for some time cautiously, "I know you have work 'nii-sama but I'm glad that you agreed to come."

Seto's eyebrows shot up and he hid a smile as Set, adopting an air of surprise, murmured, '_Agreed?_' through his mind.

"You work too hard," his younger brother admonished in a fashion that would have been comical if not for the serious expression on his face, "I wish you would let me help you. I _am _the vice president 'nii-sama!"

Seto was surprised out of control by a sneak-attack by the spirit who all but chirped, "I promise that you can do all the paperwork you want Mokuba."

Mokuba's face brightened and Set slipped back out of control with a triumphant flourish that made Seto scowl.

"Good, now I'm just going to go and.."

"Don't even _think _about it."

"But _nii-sama!_"

Seto's stare failed to relent and Mokuba scowled, his mutter of, "_spoil sport_" going mostly ignored by his older brother as he made a careful assessment of their surroundings.

Leaning against a tree nearby and looking highly doubtful Yuugi was attempting to politely decline the broomstick that a vengeful Ron Weasley was brandishing at him.

Seto didn't even bother to hide the smirk that rose upon his lips.

"What about you, Kaiba?" was the decidedly _too _casual suggestion from a cheerful Bill, recently rid of his bandages and looking far too pleased with himself.

"Did you get dropped on your head as a child?" was the dead-pan response that had Mokuba frowning at him and a mild satirical gleam entering Bill's brown eyes.

"'_Nii-sama_," was the reprimanding hiss accompanied by a sharp elbow in the elder Kaiba's ribs.

"Valid question," Seto replied stubbornly, boosted by the snicker that echoed through his mind.

"Mostly we figure yes," was the cheerful response from Charlie as he circled some feet over their heads, "Though Mum and Dad have yet to admit it. Ignorance is bliss, isn't it Bill?"

The elder Weasley shot a sharp look in his brother's direction and tapped his pocket with a curious little smile curling across his lips, "You remember what happened _last _time don't you Charlie?"

The Dragon Keeper shot a nervous look at the group before letting out a tight laugh and swooping away towards the twins, obviously in search of some payback and a fair amount of distance between him and his older brother.

Mokuba's curious look in the eldest Weasley brother's direction was met with a nostalgic smirk and a casual response of, "I summoned his broom right out from under him when he was flying over a blackberry bush.. He still has the scars." (**9**)

As the younger Kaiba snorted with laughter Seto found himself wondering how the unorganized chaos above could possibly amount to a game and for that matter, warrant being considered _better _than dueling.

'_I don't know omote, perhaps they all wear matching hats_,' was the decidedly smug input from the spirit of the rod.

Cocking his head on an angle and leveling a terribly blue stare upon the spirit as he materialized just behind the eldest Weasley brother, who was now twirling his wand between his fingers with a wistful gleam in his eyes, Seto mused in response, "That would make it _better?_"

Bill jumped visibly and Set snorted.

"It's called team unity, omote. I'm sure we could find you and Mutou matching t-shirts for your next two person duel, or trench-coats if you prefer."

"What do you mean _next,_" was the snarl of response as Seto's eyes snapped.

Set raised his hands in a placating fashion but his dark eyes were dancing beneath wisps of caramel hair, "For such bitter rivals you and the Pharaoh's reincarnation certainly _do _work as a team quite often."

Obviously lost and wearing a decidedly blank look Bill glanced in Mokuba's direction for assistance, the younger Kaiba however was absorbed in staring wistfully at the figures in the sky. As he watched, Harry wove intricately through the flying figures and zoomed within inches passed a startled Hermione Granger as she flipped through a book under one of the trees.

"_Cool,_" he breathed before rounding on his big brother with a determined gleam in his eyes and whining impressively, "'_Nii-sama._"

Seto's stare was slow in turning from the Spirit of the Rod towards his younger brother, something not helped by the laughter openly pasted across Set's face.

"What Mokuba?"

The younger Kaiba's lips turned in a sly smile and he was suddenly all doe-eyed innocence and sweetness, "It's come to my attention that you owe me."

Seto cocked an eyebrow and his arms folded bracingly across his chest before he nodded his head for his younger brother to continue.

Mokuba mimicked his elder brother's pose and tilted his chin upwards, "_One, _you sent me off while you fought that guy in Diagon Alley without even telling me _why,_" one of the younger Kaiba's fingers was brandished wildly in his elder brothers direction, "_Two,_you went off to save Yuugi without me. _Three,_" another finger was flung upwards and a deep furrow appeared between the younger Kaiba's eyebrows as they contracted together.

Seto cut him off with a shake of his head as if he didn't quite believe what he was about to say, "If you kill yourself on one of those things Mokuba, I _will _raise you from the dead just so I can strangle you myself, got it?"

Mokuba beamed at him and launched himself forwards to embrace his elder brother in a hug that nearly knocked him clean over.

"Thanks 'nii-sama!"

With a blindingly delighted grin Mokuba all but skipped off towards the assembling group on the ground, leaving Seto with a smirking Priest and a suddenly near-laughing Bill Weasley.

As Seto turned a warning glare upon the Priest, the eldest Weasley declared suddenly, "I wanted to thank you, I don't doubt that if you hadn't been there the other night this," a hand gestured absently to the thin red line that still marked his forehead, "Would have been the least of my problems."

With a nod to himself the eldest Weasley turned to watch as the younger Kaiba kicked off of the ground somewhat unsteadily with the twins carefully flanking him on either side.

Seto's eyes determinedly followed the path of his younger brother, with barely more than an answering nod in the eldest Weasley's direction. Once assured that nobody was going to ram into him or he was not going to ram into a tree he turned his eyes back to Set with a frown.

As those with the inclination to fly began their exercises those on the ground branched off into their own collective groups. A still stubbornly refusing Otogi was fending off the Weasley brothers with dice if they swooped too close and had positioned himself near an intensely concentrating Ryou who seemed to be laying out his dueling deck in formations that were unfamiliar to the elder Kaiba. Seto spared only a brief thought to wonder what he was doing before dismissing it and moving his attention onwards.

Yuugi was seated not far from Otogi and Ryou, his eyes fixed on the translucent embodiment of the former Pharaoh and obviously locked in discussion.

As he watched Remus Lupin sank down in front of a tree trunk to watch those who were flying with a vague smile and a nostalgic gleam in his eyes.

Seto found the effect decidedly nauseating.

And Bill Weasley was still watching him.

Blue eyes turned to fix upon the red-head with a flicker of irritation and a pointed tilt of his chin, Seto didn't really_ need_ to say his next words, Bill could read the message clearly enough in his haughty stare, "Was there something_ else_ that you wanted?"

Lips curling in a sardonic smile and a hint of something dancing in brown eyes the eldest Weasley gave a lazy shrug of his shoulders and began his trek towards where Remus Lupin was seated, "I was just thinking what an over-protective mother you make Kaiba."

Set began to laugh at Seto's less than thrilled expression that followed Bill as he sank down beside the other wizard.

With a narrowing of his eyes Seto absently swiped the tickling ends of hair from his sight and turned to move into relative obscurity underneath one of the many surrounding trees with a particular scowl hinting at the corners of his mouth.

"And once again omote, you have proven to me that it really_ is_ possible for one person to be_ that_ anti-social," Set declared with a smug and unrelenting smirk in his reincarnation's direction.

"Just so you know, I hate you," the elder Kaiba replied, eyes fixed upon the brief snatches of movement he could catch through the canopy of tree-branches.

Set cast a wry look in his reincarnation's direction and rolled his dark eyes as he lounged across the damp grass, twirling a piece of grass between his fingertips with no little amusement playing across his features, "So you keep on telling me omote, but you've yet to convince me."

"There is no reason why I should be here," Seto added with the scowl becoming steadily more ensconced upon his lips.

"I recall you saying something about keeping the little snot off of, _what _did dice-boy call them? Oh yes – those 'flying twigs of death'."

An ironic dark glance trailed upwards to the blur of blackberry hair and stone-wash denim that was all that could be distinguished of the younger Kaiba.

"Our failures only serve to make us stronger, omote."

Seto's eyes darkened and he leaned back against the rough bark of the tree trunk, his lips caught in that decidedly stony expression and his displeasure easily read, "Those are the words of a serial-loser, Set."

The spirit reigned in his amusement to shake his head and turn his stare upon the rest of the group, Otogi was still glaring every time he caught a glimpse of red hair and nearby the Tomb Robber had taken over for his other half and was still fixated upon his cards.

As he watched Bakura scowled at the formation and lifted his head to direct a glare at Set as though he had sensed his stare. Vaguely amused his eyes continued onto Yuugi who was now shuffling through his own deck in an agitated fashion and to the two wizards who had been joined by Hermione and were now caught up in what looked to be a very serious discussion.

Eyes returning to Seto he found that his reincarnation was still watching his younger brother with some trepidation.

"You may as well enjoy yourself omote," was the carefully offered suggestion.

"I don't respond well to organized fun," Seto retorted without even looking away.

The word even _sounded _strange coming from the elder Kaiba's lips.

"Perhaps you could challenge the midget to a.."

Seto leveled a blue glare upon him that gave a thousand violent reasons why he shouldn't finish his sentence.

"_Or _you could coerce the little snot off of his flying twig and bribe him with the prospect of soccer..?"

Set's lips curled as Seto seemed to give serious thought to the idea, he didn't know why he hadn't just appealed to his reincarnation's mother hen urges in the first place.

Any thought processes were abruptly cut off, however, by the sound of undignified yelling, or as it quickly became, swearing from the direction of the Game Creator as he was hauled unceremoniously onto a broomstick behind one of the Weasley brothers and it began to ascend.

He had obviously run out of dice.

Despite his vocal calls for explicit violence and colorful hurling of abuse in what Seto recognized as around four different languages, he was clinging in a death grip to the Dragon Keeper who was the object of his fury and didn't look likely to be letting go.

Otogi moved from violent threats in Mandarin to murderous snarls in Japanese that made Yuugi begin to look faintly worried for the Dragon Keeper's safety when they returned to ground. Those astride broomsticks and observing from below watched with open entertainment as Charlie began to glide and swoop through the surrounding area at a speed that made Hermione gasp with horror in some of what Seto assumed to be the 'fancy tricks' that the twins had been talking about.

Judging by Otogi's step up in the violence depicted in his cursing and the diversion back to English to ensure that the Dragon Keeper understood them, the stunts were in no way appreciated by his passenger, though even the mildest of his threats provided a great deal of entertainment to those not on the receiving end of them.

Seto highly doubted that having one's broomstick shoved up _that _particular orifice was a sign of gratitude in any culture.

Lips twitching with appreciation for some of the more colorful threats that were being yelled as the Game Creator bypassed his everlasting reserve of cool collection, Seto lent back against the tree trunk in a decidedly better mood for it.

As Set turned towards him, dark eyes obviously loathe to leave the spectacle that the snarling beast that Otogi had become was making, he seemed to double-take before his gaze turned menacing and his expression tightened.

"_Shaada,_" he snarled out with a sense of very _little _surprise, a complete contrast to the expression that clouded Seto's face. (**10**)

Blue eyes bore into Set as he asked a cold, "_Who-_," but was was silenced by the wary watchfulness of the High Priest and he turned to eye the newcomer with narrowed eyes.

A quick glance to all corners gave Seto every right to assume that no-one else had noticed the newest addition to their party, which he thought surprising considering the blindingly white robes and turban that adorned the apparition.

Seto turned back to the stranger to find milky-blue eyes were fixed upon him with an intensity that was nothing short of unnerving – well, that and the fact that the man (spirit? _Thing?_) seemed to be lacking pupils.

"What are _you _supposed to be," he sneered with just a touch of exasperation coloring his voice, "My Ghost of Christmas Past? The Ancient Egyptian tooth fairy?"

"Seto Kaiba," he declared in a soft accented tongue that hung uncertainly in Seto's ears and completely dismissed his prior comments, "You have at last accepted your destiny. I have long awaited our meeting."

A spark rose in Seto's chest like a bee-sting at the mentioning of the forbidden 'D' word and his eyes flashed, yet he bit back a retort with a suspicion that surprised him.

It was startling to find that within moments of meeting him all of his instincts told Seto not to trust the man before him. He hadn't had such a reaction to another human being since the first time he had encountered Pegasus J Crawford.

Seto had always trusted his instincts.

"That's interesting," Seto found himself replying with a decidedly frosty tone and an automatic rise to his feet, his arms folding before him as he slipped into his classically intimidating posture, chin tilted just so, eyes regarding the stranger with that affirmation of his complete and utter worthlessness that he had always done so _very _well.

"I don't remember scheduling a meeting, you might want to come back later."

It seemed to Seto that the man before him didn't blink half as much as he should. The effect was highly disconcerting.

"The time approaches," the man declared in his same soft voice, his eyes tracing an invisible line between Seto and Set, "You must prepare to do what must be done."

For a moment his manner seemed to darken and Seto fancied he glimpsed a set of scales for just a second balanced in the strangers hands.

"Some duties cannot be cast aside," he added with a piercing stare fixed upon Set, "This will be my final warning, the future of our King rests in your hands Set."

Seto, his eyes stinging with the attempt of trying to maintain eye-contact, blinked. When his eyes reopened the stranger had vanished into thin air leaving only an uneasy silence between the pair and yelling in the background.

For a moment Seto stared unwittingly at the spot in which the stranger had stood before he turned a slow and narrowing look upon a decidedly unnerved and rattled-looking spirit.

"Who," he spoke softly, "Was _that?_"

The spirit stared at the spot that the man had vacated with a visible tremor of darkness poisoning his face, "A man who has walked this earth without rest for over three thousand years," he breathed in response.

Seto's lips moved to question but he was cut off by a chirpy declaration of, "_'nii-sama!_" from behind him and he instead turned to face his brother, a mask of apathy slipping into place over his shock.

Mokuba was grinning as he moved towards him, but catching the change in expression with shrewd eyes he paused hesitantly and raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," the elder Kaiba replied hurriedly, "I thought you might like to play soccer," he added upon recognizing the prying look on his brothers face.

Still faintly worried the younger brother nodded, eyes fixed uncertainly as he murmured, "Sure, maybe Yuugi or Bakura would like to play.. I think Otogi's still a bit busy."

Seto's lips curled at the mention and Mokuba echoed the action with a touch more enthusiasm.

The younger Kaiba's eyes turned towards the remainder of the group in search of the pair he had mentioned and a frown crossed his face, worry flickered in his eyes as he suddenly declared with a touch of alarm, "Hang on – where's Bakura?" (**11**)

* * *

"What do you _mean _he's gone?"

The dulcet tones of Molly Weasley were about as pleasing to the ear as a yeowling cat in the middle of the night and almost as irritating. If Seto wasn't so preoccupied with his own thoughts he just might have told her so.

As it was the assembled members of the expedition who had been deemed 'in charge' were being subjected to one hell of a '_I told you so!_' rant.

"Mum," Bill began with a winning smile, "It isn't as if he can't take care of himself."

"You were supposed to ensure that they _all _came back," Molly all but snarled back, her diminutive height not diminishing her highly intimidating stance.

"He is right Mrs Weasley," Yuugi interjected in the very image of polite sincerity, "Bakura-kun is perfectly capable of getting himself out of any trouble he might find himself in."

"What about the Dementors? Can he take care of them? You heard the Prophet! The cities practically _crawling _with them," her unhappiness was unrelenting and sufficiently determined to last all night.

"If Bakura wanted to leave," Otogi interrupted with a perfectly bored drawl, "Then I say good on him. There's nothing you lot could've done to stop him anyway."

A look of outrage flew across the Weasley matrons face, "That's if he _did _go of his own free will!"

"Mum, why on earth would Death Eater's kidnap Bakura but not even take a second _look _at Harry?" was the perfectly reasonable response of a now frowning Bill.

"They took that Ishtar boy didn't they?" she replied sharply.

"They were hunting Ishtar for months," Seto snapped with a flourish of distracted irritation, "And if I'm right I believe Ishtar's capture is what prompted Bakura's departure anyway."

A series of surprised stares turned upon the elder Kaiba.

"He went _looking _for Death Eaters?"

Molly Weasley was nearly in hysterics.

"That sweet young boy went _looking _for Death Eaters?"

More than one snort sounded at the mentioning of the word 'sweet.'

"Oh they'll find him in _pieces! _It'll be like Gideon and Fabian all over again." (**12**)

The assembly were startled to find her in tears, and at the mention of her brothers Charlie and Bill exchanged meaningful looks.

"Don't worry mum," Charlie began with an awkward pat to her shoulder.

"I'm sure he'll be fine, just you wait and see," Bill added.

Sniffing loudly the Weasley matron allowed herself to be ushered into a seat by her eldest sons.

Glad of the distraction Seto took the chance to leave the kitchen, his eyes dark as he traversed the hallways on autopilot. His voice was decidedly cold as he muttered, "You can come out now."

The spirit of the Rod seemed unsurprised by the ice in his reincarnation's voice as he detached from the shadows and fell into step with him.

"So, when was the first warning?"

If the spirit was surprised by the bluntness of the question he didn't show it.

"Over three thousand years ago omote, the second while we were still in Domino. The third you just witnessed."

"And the duty?"

There was a certain stiffness to Seto's words as he pushed open the doorway to his room of choice and turned a hollow stare upon the spirit.

"I think you already know the answer to that, omote," was the softened response.

Seto turned away to enter the room with a mechanical sharpness, ignoring the hand that lingered however momentarily outstretched in midair.

"Well don't go soft on me now Set," he taunted abruptly, whipping around in mid step to face him with anger glowing in his eyes, "I was just starting to believe you had a spine! Are you going to tell me why or do I have to connect the dots myself?"

The spirit remained silent, dark eyes watchful as Seto adopted a haughty, defensive veneer and a sneer to match.

"_Well?_"

"I meant what I said omote," the spirit replied as he moved out of the doorway and towards Seto, "My word has not changed."

"Then _why,_" was the cold sneer, no longer heated and so very impersonal, "Did you keep it from me?"

There was the faintest trace of sadness in Set's eyes as he paused in his advance. "It could mean his life," he whispered finally, pride turning his chin up, "He is still my Pharaoh omote, still my King. I owe him my allegiance."

"Then I can't trust you," there was a hint of a wound in Seto's could tone as he retreated to sink into a chair, hands entangling in chestnut hair to prevent their exhausted trembling.

"But you want to," the spirit replied as he trailed Seto's path.

The look in Seto's eyes clearly read, 'of course I do,' but his lips refused such a traitorous declaration.

"You're stronger than you give yourself credit for," the spirit finally murmured as Seto turned his head away, gaze fixed on a grey dusk.

His lips cracked a thin and bitter smile.

"I have to be."

* * *

The dark cell was silent and had been for quite some time.

Only a soft trickle of liquid striking the stone floor could be heard, though even that had trailed off into a scarce alternating drip and the soft ragged sounds of breathing from the slumped form of the Egyptian.

Copper coated his tongue, his fingers scraped listlessly at the cold embrace of the stone floor and his lips were a wide curl of a smile. A single lilac eye stared wide and bright at the trails of brightest scarlet that curled down his face like a river, staining dusty blond a shade of brilliant copper, pooling beneath his face.

A beautiful mask, he thought, a beautiful gift for his birthday.

"Life," he croaked with a deranged smile weaving across his face as he rolled over to lie on his back and stare at the stars of the dark black ceiling, "You don't really miss it until they steal it from you, do you little bird?"

He cocked his head curiously, listening intently for the sound of something, the sobbing cries inside his mind and nodded his agreement.

A hand lifted up to roll over his dripping face, smearing scarlet over tanned skin in delight before sucking his fingers clean and letting out a delighted sigh. His limbs were weary certainly, but not for long, not with the power that was slowly coursing through his veins. Like _gold, _he decided happily, black gold that swum through his blood like a drug.

Everything was finally right again.

His fingers curled through his blood soaked hair, singular eye glittering as more of the dusky blond turned red.

Curious fingers delicately moved to the socket of his left eye, fingers gently brushing over the new addition to his face, gold like the copper-stained jewellery at his ears and wrists and neck – but this one was special. It was warm and black and it whispered all kinds of beautiful things to him as he lay on the ground.

The woman wouldn't be pleased, he realized with a demonic curl of his lips, no, he imagined that she would have very much liked his pretty trinket for herself. But it was his now, bound by flesh and blood and soul and no-one would be taking it from him as he had taken it from the foolish Tomb Robber.

The Thief hadn't held on tight enough, the gold hadn't called to _him._

His fingers caressed the gold with a sinful pleasure that was spoiled by the sobs that echoed in his mind, his lips twitched in irritation.

"Why are you crying? Why do you always cry? _I _did it, I made us powerful. Now when the bird and the snake come we will be strong."

With a satisfied smile he closed one eyelid and drew circles in scarlet upon his cheeks, his tongue forming a soft and hoarse lullaby as he did so, his crooning was dark and seductive.

"_Begun by blood, by blood undone: At the hundredth sacrifice, the end shall come._"

He paused, listened intently to the tired and weak sounds of the voice in his head and began to laugh, his lips bubbling and tongue reaching out to snatch a gliding drop of scarlet as it trailed down his cheek from his newest prize.

'_The end, little bird, and at last all the world shall drown in darkness._' (**13**)

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1.** That's what it seems like to me..  
**2**. Shameless movie gag I know.. One guess as to _who _happened to walk in on them..  
**3. **To sum up, in response to the question of, "Is Sirius influencing Otogi,".. I'd put that down as a resounding great, "_Yes!_"  
**4**. Incidentally, April's Fool Day is Fred and George's birthday – so there's no doubting that it's _their _favorite day of the year.  
**5**. Of all the, "_If I wasn't a Death Eater I would be_" professions, this seemed to be the most ironic to me, so Rabastan got landed with it.  
**6**. J.K's description of the prophecy orbs reminded me vividly of the whole, "Orb of Thessala" paperweight gag in Season Two Buffy.. Thus the reference.  
**7**. I take no responsibility for how terrible my prophecy-writing skills are, _that _lies in the hands of my alter-ego, **Vlad the** **Internet Pirate..** In hindsight, don't ask, the answer you get won't be pretty. Asides from that, I shall boost you with the information that the myth in mind_ is_ an Egyptian one, and quite a well known one too I suppose.  
**8**. It's come to my attention that it's impossible to write anything about "riding broomsticks" without everything becoming laced with innuendo. No wonder J.K doesn't like writing Quidditch scenes.. I personally found it all the more fun.  
**9. **I have vivid mental images of this particular memory, it amuses me greatly, for in my mind _I _can see the aftermath..  
**10. **One infuriatingly vague mystic with an agenda? Check.  
**11**. Good_bye _Mister Tomb Robber..  
**12**. Incidentally Gideon and Fabian Prewett who are mentioned by Moody in OotP were Molly Weasleys brothers. It took five Death Eaters to kill them and they 'fought like heroes.' J.K lists their deaths as one of the reasons why Molly's so concerned about her family being in the second war.  
**13**.I assume you all know just what our favorite psychopath did when Bellatrix's fun got a little bit too much for our poor Malik ..

* * *

"_When I am King you will be first against the wall;  
With your opinion which is of no consequence at all._"

* * *


	25. Kreacher Feature

**

* * *

**

Book One of Eight;

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Twenty** **Four-  
**Kreacher Feature.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

Yuugi Mutou was a creature who craved comfort. 

It had never bothered him to admit it, after all, he had faced enough life-threatening situations in his lifetime to know that _wishing _for excitement was the equivalent of poking the gods with a sharp stick and taunting them to do their very worst.

Yuugi had learned to have a healthy respect for the tempestuous nature of the higher powers.

Thus it was that he had always harbored a secret, modest wish that just for _once _in his life he could have a normal, boring year that didn't require dealings with vague mystics carrying dire warnings.

Apparently, the King of Games mused as he stared idly at the peeling wallpaper, that was _far _too much to ask.

The vague mystic Yuugi thought that he could deal with. After all, Shaadi had come to have a deep respect for the host of the Pharaoh. (**1**)

It was the dire warnings that were threatening to do his head in.

.. And it was all thanks to Seto Kaiba.

Yuugi thought he should have at _least _expected it – the elder Kaiba had always gone that extra mile in making life just that wee bit more difficult for him. (**2**) And now, _just _when he thought Seto couldn't possibly find a new way to torment him, Shaadi had pleasantly informed him that, lo and behold, of all the new foes that surrounded him it was _Kaiba _that he should be watching.

Trouble was coming, he had been told, and he could not trust his allies to remain as such.

Faced with the presence of the scowling representation of all of his problems, the problem's younger brother and the most flirtatious human being to ever walk the planet - not to mention a handful of dysfunctional wizards and witches for good measure, Yuugi was sure he he had never missed the comforts of his tried and true friends more than he did right now.

Oh yes, Yuugi Mutou craved comfort. He thought it must come from the needy, lonely child inside.

'Rather than the needy, lonely child on the outside Aibou?' Atemu quipped happily, pleased that it was not _him _who was faced with the prospect of facing the decidedly unhappy elder Kaiba who had last been seen slipping out of the Kitchen in one of his most understated exits to date.

Yuugi scowled in response and turned his eyes on the distressed form of Molly Weasley who was still sobbing on her eldest sons shoulder. Only moments later a change raced through the King of Games' features and a decidedly smug smile curled across his lips which caused the former-Pharaoh to let out a soft groan.

Atemu decided that he really _did _need to learn to keep his mouth shut.

Nobody noticed the King of Games as he slipped out of the kitchen and followed the steps that Seto Kaiba had taken only moments before.

* * *

The low creak of the door on its hinges had Seto whipping his head around abruptly to meet a determined crimson stare from a faintly frowning Atemu head-on. 

Somehow, Seto thought with a grimace, it failed to surprise him that Atemu had followed him.

What _did _surprise Seto, however, was the passing haze of custom that insisted he _bow _to the spirit in front of him when those crimson eyes locked with his own.

Snuffing any strange ideas that 'custom' may have lured into his mind out quickly, Seto addressed the important issues.

One, Set was still watching him with that far-too perceptive stare.

Two, Atemu looked very much like he wanted to have a deep and meaningful conversation.

And last but not least, three, the Pharaoh had efficiently blocked off his only viable escape route.

A cursory blue glance turned upon the windows with a calculative stare. After Duelist Kingdom, Mokuba had made it apparent that windows were _not _to be used as an exit unless in the most dire of circumstances, and while _Seto_ considered his present situation to be _dire, _he highly doubted that his little brother would agree. (**3**)

The hesitant curl of a smile on the Pharaoh's lips signified something that Seto refused to even address.

Gods – Atemu almost looked _friendly._

After frowning darkly at the Pharaoh for several moments in an attempt to deter this unwelcome change in his rival to no avail, Seto decided to take a more a direct approach.

"What do you want?"

Atemu flinched at the decidedly hostile tone and the would-be smile flickered uncertainly.

"I want to talk to you," the Pharaoh replied, pausing briefly in private debate before tacking on a hesitant, "Seto."

If Seto had been the type he might have gasped – as it was his eyes merely rounded in horror and he suddenly got the impression that someone, somewhere, was playing a _very _cruel joke and he wondered darkly at this mystery being's sense of humor.

"Seto?"

A muscle twitched impulsively above Seto's eyebrow as Atemu's smile rekindled.

There were _clearly _headed into very dangerous territory.

Unnoticed for the time being Set allowed his lips to turn in a trace of a smirk which he flaunted at his harassed and very unhappy reincarnation.

'You should really get control of that twitch omote, it throws your poker-face off completely.'

With one last rueful glance over Atemu's ridiculous crest of hair at the suddenly very distant doorway Seto turned a stony look upon the former-Pharaoh, only pausing to shoot a nasty look in Set's direction along the way.

Snapping abruptly into action with a speed that was almost bedazzling to Atemu, Seto was suddenly seated and watching the former-ruler with impatiently expectant blue eyes.

"You wanted to talk Pharaoh, so talk."

Taking a seat of his own and casting only a brief puzzled stare in a still smirking Set's direction, Atemu settled his attention upon his rival.

Ignoring the elder Kaiba brothers frequent glances in the direction of his empty coffee-mug, Atemu inhaled deeply and fixed a firm stare upon Seto's carefully guarded face, "we have more in common than you realize, Seto."

Another twitch tugged at Seto's eyebrow and Set repressed a snicker that survived to lurk merrily in his dark eyes.

"If you wanted an autograph you should have asked," Seto replied with an ice-driven smile cutting a thin line across his face, "I wasn't aware you were a fan."

Atemu blinked in rapidly descending confusion before realization dawned on him and his cheeks colored in frustration and he snapped out, "_Kaiba!_"

An eyebrow dawdled upwards and the elder Kaiba brother turned towards his adversary with a twitch of his lips, "clearly you assumed you were flattering me in saying so Mutou, but let me clear one thing up," the amusement in Seto's eyes died curtly and his tone dropped an octave for the briefest of moments, "you are _nothing _like me."

Crimson eyes barely flickered, watching with keen interest as Seto shifted, the Sennen Rod replacing his empty coffee mug in a subconscious motion that seemed completely natural to the elder Kaiba. As Atemu watched, the gleaming gold was rolled absently from hand to hand and Seto's eyes turned moodily away to inspect the peeling wallpaper.

The motion paused abruptly when Set appeared in his reincarnations eye-line and the gold fell motionless into Seto's lap.

"We both know that something big is coming," Atemu began again, his eyes turning briefly upon the ever-watchful dark stare of his cousin, "Bakura knew it and I hazard that Ishtar did too – and whatever it is we will need to work together.

"We've sang this song before Mutou," was Seto's bored drawl of response as his blue eyes narrowed, "I don't play side-kick in your super-squad."

A trace of something passed through Atemu's eyes that Seto couldn't quite place – it _looked _as if Seto had just signed on the dotted line of a contract he hadn't read the fine print of.

"No," the former Pharaoh replied quietly with a far more natural curl touching his lips, "you never could."

"I don't go in for the matching t-shirts, 'united we stand', go team, go! motivational garbage Mutou," Seto found himself responding, a niggling sensation of something being fundamentally wrong working it's way into the depths of his mind.

"Good thing too," was the drawled response as Otogi strode through the door to flop in casual disarray in one of the armchairs and peer through jagged wisps of dark hair at the elder Kaiba, "I might have to off myself if I caught the pair of you in matching outfits."

Atemu cast a disgruntled look in the invading Game Creator's direction and was met with a sardonic green stare, "easy your _highness,_ if the t-shirts were a fundamental part of your big plan then-"

Seto turned a harassed blue glare upon Set's mildly amused face and snapped, "you _do _realize this is all your fault, don't you?"

"Guilty," Set conceded with a gleam in his dark eyes, "though in my defense – it was fun and I was bored."

"That's a defense?"

Mokuba's skepticism was obvious as he peered through the doorway, "I thought I'd find you all in here," he added as he moved towards the worn sofa that he had long ago claimed for his own, "is it weird to anyone else that we all just naturally congregate in here?"

At the blank looks the younger Kaiba received he rolled his eyes and muttered, "_should've known_," beneath his breath.

"I liked this room as a kid," came the oddly hoarse interruption from Otogi that received several blank stares, "far fewer elf-heads and tasteless paintings."

Atemu cast a brief glance at the game creator before declaring a dismissive, "possessed," to no one in particular.

The possessed Otogi cast a vaguely annoyed glance in the former Pharaoh's direction, "I _do _have a name you know."

Atemu's rather pronounced scowl hinted that the bored spirit had hit upon a decidedly touchy subject.

Another grimace touched upon Seto's lips and he turned his head away from the scene as the possessed form of Otogi stood and stalked in the direction of the door with a vague mutter of alleviating his boredom.

Meeting the stare of a faintly frowning Spirit of the Rod, Seto found himself pondering the question seemed to weigh upon the air between them, easily read from the deadlock in their eyes.

'_Where do we go from here?_'

* * *

Rabastan Lestrange had always considered himself something of a connoisseur when it came to torture. 

He had experienced, and more often than not, sampled many of the accepted practices put into place by the Ministry of Magic during his stay in Azkaban and he had faced the wand and presence of Bellatrix Black-Lestrange for the vast majority of his time on earth.

Many would consider Rabastan an expert on the subject – however, Rabastan himself knew better.

The moment that the Death Eater laid eyes on the sprawled and silent figure of Malik Ishtar on the cold stone floor he knew that one of two things had happened. Malik Ishtar was either dead or he very soon would be.

With a profound curse that echoed around the stone walls Rabastan turned his eyes away and did the only thing that seemed remotely plausible to him: he lit up a cigarette.

For five blissful minutes the Death Eater studied at the prone form of Malik Ishtar on the floor, sucking in the relaxing thrall of tobacco and mentally scolding himself for not going to get more cigarettes sooner.

Once the glowing butt was crushed out beneath a booted heel and Rabastan was sure that he might possibly be able to deal with the situation he took a step towards the bars and called out in a decidedly gruff tone, "are you alive?"

When a low wheezing laugh was the only answer that Rabastan received, he decided that the situation was not quite so dire as he had imagined, though if it _wasn't _than he wanted to know where all the blood had come from.

Not that he was left wondering for long.

The moment that Malik rolled over to face him, a predatory gleam in his decidedly sharper and less controlled lavender .. _eye _Rabastan knew that something had gone very seriously wrong. With a curiosity that Rabastan told himself was _beyond _morbid, Mahogany eyes traced the many dried and fresh scarlet rivulets that carved paths over the Egyptian's tanned skin to their source.

In the place of what _should _have been – and _had _been a perfectly normal (if somewhat unusually colored) eye, was a gleaming hunk of blood-stained metal, carved into a delicate bastardization of an eye.

No, Rabastan recalled with a faint grimace if recollection, it wasn't any sort of imitation – it was an _Udjat. _A representation of the eye that Thoth had gifted to the god Horus after his traitorous brother Seth had ripped his left eye right out of it's socket.

Shaking off his thoughts the wizard took an unknowing step closer to the bars, eyes fixed in twisted curiosity upon the strangely glowing metal that now occupied the Egyptian's left eye socket – _left? _

Much like the spiders web ensnares it's prey, the Death Eater found himself drawn into the strangely hypnotizing glow of gold that seemed to trap within it any and all light that ventured into the small dark cell.

He didn't even notice the lithe predatory stalk that brought that enticing gleam of gold steadily closer, or the twisted smile that curled delightedly upon the Egyptian's lips as hands snaked through the bars to ensnare the mans neck in a deathly grip.

As pressure closed around his neck, Rabastan found himself tugged violently back into the present to see that leering smile suddenly close and that one normal eye gleaming brightly with hunger and anticipation.

While pain shot through his flesh and his windpipe protested heartily to his brain to do _something,_ Rabastan made a flailing attempt to snatch the handle of his wand from where it protruded from the pocket of his robes. As his fingers snatched hold of the slippery wood he brandished it hastily before him and snarled out, "_Relashio._"

A jet of red sparks flared in the Egyptian's face and he jolted backwards, his grip releasing as his hands reached upward in surprise.

The Death Eater took a good few steps back, one hand gingerly rubbing his abused neck as he observed the Egyptian with a renewed sense of caution. Something was most _definitely_ not right.

Closer inspection brought a curious phenomena to Rabastan's attention, it may have just been a figment of his imagination but this new, dangerous Malik seemed to hold himself differently – and in his one regular eye there was a madness without reason that spelt out only one word to the Death Eater – and that was _danger._

It was the same look that his sister-in-law sported when she took it into her head to be insulted.

At a safe distance from the bars the Death Eater watched as the Egyptian recovered from his surprise and moved closer to the doorway. Cradling the bars within his arms and tilting his head to one side, the _new _Malik observed Rabastan with etchings of curiosity and hunger.

"You like to play," his voice was hoarse and steeped in darkness, that strange blood-stained gold seemed to glow softly in the darkness, "but not in the dark. Why are you scared of the dark?"

Malik's lips curled in a wicked smile that made Rabastan's spine crawl and he took another precautionary step backwards, fingers searching out his battered cigarette carton by force of habit.

"You've cracked," Rabastan muttered out loud as he lit up his new cigarette, "Bella's done it again."

"I can see them," was the soft persisting near-purr from the blond as he lent into the bars, forehead pressed lightly against the cold metal, as counterpoint eyes fixed upon him intently, "I can see the shadows in your soul - they tell me what wicked things you did to them."

Tanned blood-streaked fingers brushed absently at hardened wisps of scarlet-soaked blond around his temples, that singular lavender eye fixated upon the slow winding movements of the glowing cigarette butt as it trailed back and forth from the Death Eaters lips.

"I should've known better than to leave her alone," Rabastan muttered in a determinedly distracted tone, a distasteful yet wary glance hesitantly observing the eerily smiling Egyptian, "she never _could _control herself."

Rabastan found a shudder rolling through his spine and cast his cigarette away with a grimace, fixing his eyes determinedly upon the slouching Egyptian who reminded him rather too much of a battered (and all the more dangerous for it) lion, waiting and watching in the shadows.

"Do you want to know what they're telling me?" the question was hoarse and laced with laughter as a pink tongue swept out to catch a fresh trickle of scarlet as it wound down the Egyptian's cheek.

Rabastan took another long drag of his cigarette and turned his gaze away, massaging his throat with one hand and not quite caring that his subtle side-stepping of the madman's questions were no longer anywhere close to being subtle.

"They're screaming," was the hoarse response to Rabastan's feigned indifference, spoken with a relish that gleamed in Malik's singular eye that took in the tensed figure of the Death Eater.

Rabastan's retreat had brought him all the way to the opposite wall, his head turned away and his fingers shaking so badly that his cigarette eventually tumbled from them to land, still glowing, on the ground at his feet.

Rabastan _knew _that he was being tested – he simply didn't understand _why._

She unleashed a lion, the Death Eater realized as he took in the predatory gleam that lurked in the boys eyes, this was and was not the boy that he had talked to the day before.

Fingers brushed hastily, reassuringly, over the polished wood of his wand in his pocket and a smile crept along the Egyptian's lips.

"I was born of the darkness," the Egyptians voice was barely a whisper, singular eye cast in shadow while the other gave off that soft enticing glow, "of pain and blood and screaming and hatred – I was born bathed in revenge. You-"

The glow seemed to explode for just a moment in a brilliant shower of light, "_you've _seen what lives in the dark."

Rabastan felt, as that golden light grazed over him, that whatever test he had just been set he had somehow passed.

Whatever victory the Death Eater might have felt was abruptly drowned out by the sound of a soft low hiss and the drag of long coiled body moving across the cool stone.

In the darkness the considerably large shape that the snake made as it moved across the stone floor was nothing more than a blot in the dim light, yet Rabastan jerked backwards automatically.

He had never been particularly fond of the Dark Lord's favorite pet.

Nagini flicked her tongue out in Rabastan's direction as though sensing his discomfort as she passed him by before turning toward the blond Egyptian with a low, soft hiss.

The slow winding movements that carried the snake across the flag-stone floor were both mesmerizing and horrifying, because Rabastan's gut told him that if the snake should approach the decidedly unstable human being that was Malik Ishtar it would _not _escape unscathed .. And Rabastan knew that if the Dark Lord's favourite pet was in any way harmed there would be hell-to-pay. Thus, as strong as the Death Eater's dislike for Nagini was – his ingrained survival instincts were _far _stronger.

Counting backwards with a visible grimace as the snake moved guilelessly towards the bars and the Egyptian drew back from the bars with that supreme confidence that _no-one _should have in the face of such a large and menacing predator, Rabastan raised his wand and pointed it hesitantly in Nagini's direction.

Oh, how he _wanted _to let the wretched creature get what was coming to it.

As the snake came within an arms length of the bars Rabastan muttered a decidedly reluctant, "_wingardium leviosa._"

Hissing and spitting the Dark Lord's favorite pet shot into the air, where it writhed and struggled against the invisible force that supported it's bulky mass. With an intelligence that it logically shouldn't have possessed it's livid eyes fixed menacingly upon the wizard whose wand was lazily outstretched in its direction. If Rabastan didn't know better he might have thought that he was being threatened.

A spark of amusement crawling through his chest the Death Eater lazily began to swish his wand through the air, his lips curling in a nasty line of pleasure as more furious hissing erupted and the snakes burly mass followed the swishing of his wand.

Thus, it was of little surprise to Rabastan that his actions were brought to a sudden and abrupt halt by a curt snap of, "_Rabastan,_" and the sound of brisk footfalls crossing the flag-stone floor.

After all, Fate had never been particularly fond of the youngest Lestrange brother.

"_What _do you think you are doing to Nagini?"

Almond eyes that were much the same shape as Rabastan's own shot a superior and reprimanding glare in the Death Eater's direction before a second wand was flicked in the direction of the writhing serpent accompanied by a snap of, _"finite._"

Nagini landed with an audible thump upon the ground and slithered away from the pair of wizards hurriedly, only a menacing hiss shot in Rabastan's direction any indication that she would remember the encounter.

Rabastan was surprised to find that he was almost disappointed at the snake's departure – he would've much rather dealt with the over-sized worm than deal with the disapproving and furious figure of his elder brother.

With a determined squaring of his jaw and an attempt to brush aside the feeling that he was twelve again under that shadowed and inhumanly cold stare, Rabastan folded his arms and lounged back against the stone wall behind him before addressing his elder brother, "what are you doing here Rodolphus – I wasn't aware that you had business here."

The similarities between the pair were uncanny – from the well-defined if somewhat strong features to the identical near-black shade of their hair it was clear that they were siblings. They even shared in the shadows that seemed to haunt their eyes and pallid complexions that accompanied a prolonged stay in Azkaban. The differences, however, were what struck Malik as he watched keenly through the bars with a calculative stare.

Rabastan's over-all appearance lent towards disorder – from the scruffy state of his hair to the rumpled state of his finely-made robes. He made a strong contrast to the clean-cut lines of his elder brother.

"Severus tells me you've been slacking off again," the cold assessment was made with a carefully applied veil of disinterest, as the taller and older brother observed his younger sibling's unkempt appearance with a wrinkle of his nose.

"And since when," Rabastan replied with an equally frosty edge to his tone and a visible quirk of his eyebrow, "have _you _ever listened to slimy little gits like Snape?"

"_Since,_" Rodolphus sneered back in a bored tone as he sniffed at the air and fixed a narrowed stare upon his brother, "_you _began traipsing down here to chat with prisoners and taking up filthy _Muggle _habits."

The dim light revealed surprise in Rabastan's eyes that was hastily covered up as he found himself caught by the heart of a disapproving gleam in his older brothers eyes.

"What _I _do doesn't concern you Rodolphus," Rabastan muttered sharply with an attempt at averting his stare landing upon the eerily observant stare of Malik Ishtar, "I am not some child you can lead around on a leash."

It was apparent, however, that Rodolphus wasn't listening – Rabastan's movements had shifted the loose collar of his robes and now the elder Lestrange's eyes were fixed upon his younger brothers neck with a visible sheen of anger lighting in his eyes.

"What happened?" was the sharp demand as the elder brother took several steps forward with the intention of getting a clearer view.

One hand reaching up to sharply wrench his collar back into place the younger Lestrange brother leveled a look of warning upon Rodolphus, before his eyes turned back to the silently watching Malik. The Egyptian suddenly began to laugh.

Rodolphus snapped around to stare at the Egyptian much as one would gawk at an animal in the zoo before his gaze darkened and he snarled out, "you let the _muggle _do that? What the hell is wrong with you Rabastan – you'll bring disgrace on our name .."

Incredulous laughter joined that of the Egyptian's as Rabastan directed a disbelieving stare to watch as his brothers cheeks began to color and his eyes brightened with anger.

"_You're _worried about our reputations _now_ Rodolphus? You _already _married the poster-girl for '_Lunatics Weekly_' and the only two _heirs _to the Lestrange line were both thrown in Azkaban to _rot,_" although Rabastan's words were mocking there wasn't even a trace of amusement in his eyes, "I don't think disgrace _comes _much worse than that, brother."

"We suffered for a_ cause_," Rodolphus snarled back, his anger apparent as he advanced another step on his younger brother, "_we _stayed loyal and true to the Dark Lord and when the time comes _we _will be honored above all others."

Another bout of incredulous laughter was thrown back in the elder Lestrange's face as a bitter glare affixed itself to Rabastan's eyes, "and _what _if 'the time' _never _comes Rodolphus? Tell me what happens if the Potter brat actually goes and _finishes _the job that he started all those years ago," Rabastan matched his brothers step forward with one of his own and tilted his chin arrogantly upward to meet his elder brothers stare, "what happens to the _noble _Lestrange name _then?_"

Fury all but crackled from every pore of Rodolphus' being, his eyes dark and angry as his wand rose sharply and the curse formed upon his lips with an ease that came with years of service to the Dark Arts, "_Cruc-_"

A sharp jerk of Rabastan's own wand and the curse was repelled before it was even properly formed, mahogany eyes rising to meet the livid stare of his older brother even as he turned his wand away.

"_Years _we spent in Azkaban proving our loyalty Rabastan .. Would you falter now? Would you let the mudbloods and blood-traitors and muggle-trash poison our world when we – we who are _pure _and loyal and _deserve _it have suffered so long .."

There was a desperation in Rodolphus' eyes that Rabastan had never witnessed as he stretched out one hand to grip his brothers shoulder, "it is _our _world Rabastan."

"You sound like _her,_" Rabastan spat back in defiance, eyes flashing, "you're lunatic _wife. _If this is _our _world than why does it not feel like it? Why do we slink and plot in the shadows?"

Rodolphus let out a harsh laugh that was rusted with disuse, his eyes taking on a sardonic gleam that was almost soothing in its normality, "nobody said that revolution would be _easy _brother." (**4**)

Rabastan's lips twitched faintly and he echoed his brothers attempt at a laugh with one of his own, stashing his wand back into a pocket.

"I'd forgotten how fast you are," was the quiet assessment from Rodolphus as he indicated his brothers wand-arm, "it's no wonder they had such trouble trying to catch us."

The casually placed compliment was enough to almost fool Rabastan into thinking he was back in the Slytherin common-room at school, having jinxed one of the Hufflepuff Prefects and gotten away with it too. But it was just a shadow of what he remembered, the younger Lestrange noted with no little bitterness, even that odd hollow smile upon his brothers was just a reminded of the dark stretch of time that stood between them.

Rodolphus' voice was distant and sharp again as he withdrew his wand and the shell of a smile dropped off of his face, "I knew there was a reason you have survived this long brother, but even your sharp reflexes won't save you if our Lord hears you have been doubting him."

"I'm aware," was the hoarse response as the younger Lestrange turned his eyes away, caught by the haze of gold that seemed to be spreading through the dimly lit room.

A frown touching the younger Lestrange brother's face and a distinct feeling that something was wrong he turned his eyes upon the Egyptian, suddenly unnerved by the way that the walls seemed to be _moving. _

Breath hitching at his throat at the cold that seemed to roll over him, _through _him he took a step back towards the wall, memories flowing through his mind like a film reel.

_No._

Fingers raked at the air, trembling in pale in the swirl of indigo and black mists that seemed to have enveloped the room. The sound of his elder brothers voice vaguely registered in the back of his mind and his shoulder were shook roughly, fingers digging into his shoulder blades as he was dragged from his memories.

There was no light now, Rabastan realized with a dim cloud seeming to obscure his brain from thinking clearly, only that trace of gold that seemed to creep through the shadows like a beacon.

_Gold._

Mahogany eyes turned sharply in the direction of the cell that the Egyptian had formerly inhabited to find that there _was _no cell, only a new collection of empty shadows and..

Rabastan's breath caught in his throat again to find that deranged smile so very close to them, only feet away and roaming freely. That eerie golden eye now clean and defying logic itself by gleaming so very, very brightly amidst the cage of darkness that surrounded them.

It was strange, the younger Lestrange brother thought with surprise, that he had spent so very long as the darkest of nightmares to an entire wizarding community yet he could feel fear in the face of what was supposed to be a Muggle teenager.

In the darkness Malik Ishtar was eerily visible, from his blood-stained mane of dusty blond hair to his devil-be-damned leer. His footsteps as he drew closer echoed in Rabastan's ears.

One tanned hand outstretched in the air, directed towards the back of a scowling and unaware Rodolphus. As Rabastan watched a flurry of gold seemed to flow through the air towards his brother, engulfing him in its light and dragging twisted and ravenous black shadows with it.

And Rabastan knew there was nothing in the world that he could do to stop it.

As his brothers grip on his shoulders slackened Rabastan felt himself unable to move, to even think as furious eyes seemed to lose their life and dull away into a blank, unseeing stare. He watched the rigid curl of his brothers lips slacken and his body slump backwards to land with a dull and limp thud upon the suddenly solid flag-stone floor.

Even as a paper-thin piece of card appeared, held lightly between the tanned fingers of the Egyptian, Rabastan stared at the slumped figure of his brother on the floor.

He had seen this before – life that was worse than death itself.

Mahogany eyes turned slowly towards the lurking predator whose smile was sharp and dangerous as he turned that solitary playing card over between his fingers. Without warning it was flicked in his direction, fluttering through the air to land on the grimy stone at Rabastan's booted feet.

Mechanically he reached down to pick the card off of the floor, eyes fixed upon the staring and surprised image of his brothers twisted soul, frozen still in his very own personal Hell.

Tearing his eyes away from the morbidly entrancing sight, Rabastan turned his stare instead upon the watchful Egyptian who seemed – if anything distracted now. That gleam of madness in his eyes was faltering, his demeanor unstable as he gripped at his own hair, muttering beneath his breath.

"An eye for an eye," was the hoarse whisper as his eyes lingered upon the card that Rabastan clutched between his fingers.

The sound of yelling from above and a great crash jolted his attention outwards and a flicker of that boy that Rabastan had questioned returned, a shadow of something crossing his face as he murmured out with a weak laugh of what could have been relief.

"He's here."

* * *

Ryuuji Otogi was fairly sure that he had never been in quite such an awkward position in his entire life. It seemed that the spirit that had hijacked his body was not only something of a trouble-maker but that he was wholly aware of the position he had put his kindly host into – and Otogi didn't consider himself paranoid in believing that he was _enjoying _it. 

As it was an amused (but trying _valiantly _not to show it) Remus Lupin and a gaggle of teenaged wizards and witches were watching him intently – and when combined with the thoroughly unsupportive and smirking Kaiba brothers and a decidedly miffed Ex-Pharaoh the Game Creator was beginning to feel very unappreciated.

If _this _was what happened when the spirit got _bored _than Otogi hoped he _never _experienced the spirit's anger.

Turning a deliberate and haughty glare upon the group and projecting a feeling of intense hatred inwards in the hopes that his uninvited tenant would get the message, Otogi tilted his chin upwards and declared coolly, "_what?_"

Resting his glare pointedly on a particularly vocal and decidedly _red _Ron Weasley who appeared to be muttering something along the lines of, "why is it always _me?_" to himself, the Game Creator fought down the heat that was threatening to rise in his cheeks.

Otogi Ryuuji did _not _get embarrassed.

Turning his gaze onwards he rather unintentionally made the entire situation worse by finding the direct source of his discomfort – a distinctly pink and half-frowning Charlie Weasley who was pretending to be completely absorbed in feeding a disgruntled Kleidon.

"It must be hard," Remus Lupin offered diplomatically, unable to keep his amusement from coloring his words.

At the suspicious glare that Otogi threw upon him the werewolf hid his smile and tacked on innocently, "being possessed by the spirit of a stranger, who should, by all rights, be long dead .. It isn't exactly a common problem."

As though tuned on some unknown frequency Otogi picked up the danger that lurked in that strange half-smile that Remus Lupin brandished and his eyes narrowed warningly, "you'd be surprised."

Eyes turned sharply upon the unhelpful row of familiar faces with a vague twitch of irony, "in my circle of _friends_ it seems to be a mark of distinction – sort of like a medal or a puppy."

Otogi felt a distinct surge of disgruntlement inside at the mention of the word 'puppy' and his lips quirked, "I'll be the envy of the group."

Remus' eyebrows raised upwards but his lips turned in an endearing lop-sided smile that brought a wave of nostalgia that wasn't quite his own over the Game Creator.

"You are a strange, _strange _human being," the werewolf murmured aloud.

"I could have told you _that,_" came the vague mutter from the Dragon Keepers direction causing a renewed groan from his youngest brother and faint grin to cross his sisters face.

"Rather strange than dull," was the contrite response that drew a gleam into Lupin's eyes.

"I think Sirius is rubbing off on you" the werewolf murmured, his hands smoothing out the worn cloth of his trousers as he turned his eyes aside.

"It was bound to happen sooner or later," was the faintly amused reply from a now-smiling Ginny, whose eyes turned briefly upon the pensive Boy Who Lived before meeting the faintly frowning Otogi's stare head on, "Sirius was hardly the quiet type."

"How is it possible though," Hermione murmured aloud, "how can two souls reside within one body?"

"They are not complete souls," was the cold reply from a decidedly solemn Set, "two complete souls cannot inhabit the same body."

"But _you-_" Harry began sharply.

"-Do _not _inhabit the same body," the priest retorted coolly, "I reside within the Rod which is bound to Seto by blood. I am able to take control of his body through that bond." (**5**)

"And _Yuugi?_"

A brief flicker touched Set's eyes and he ignored Seto's stare, "my Cousin inhabits the Puzzle, the principle is basically the same."

Harry fell silent, his eyes fixing upon Otogi once again.

The Game Creator, to his credit, shifted under the stare and cast a look upon the still smiling Remus Lupin that clearly read, '_make him quit it._'

With a stare of reply that clearly read, '_you asked_,' the werewolf turned towards Harry, "you might be interested to know that we may have located another piece of Sirius' soul."

Harry's eyes widened at the precise moment that a grimace found Otogi's face.

"It seems that Severus was not being paranoid – there was a spirit haunting his dungeons and Professor Dumbledore has established that it was not Peeves. Both seem convinced that it is Sirius."

"Brilliant," came the decidedly hoarse interruption from the possessed-Otogi whose eyes gleamed cheerfully, "what are we waiting for then?"

Remus blinked at the vague impression of his oldest friend in vague surprise.

"Let's go get my soul!"

* * *

Remus Lupin was beginning to feel the itching beneath his skin again. 

It wasn't uncommon in the time that surrounded the full moon, but that made it no less irritating.

With a grunt of irritation the Werewolf cast a moody glance down at the steaming goblet that sat before him and cast an equally moody glare in the direction of the note that had accompanied it.

Remus was beginning to rethink his entire 'Snape really _isn't _such a bad person' philosophy.

Taking a deep breath the werewolf picked up the goblet and downed it in one, sharp shot with a wrinkling of his nose and squishing his eyes shut. For several moments after the goblet was drained he sat with the same sour look upon his face before he reopened his eyes and jumped with surprise at what he saw.

The half-smirking figure of Ryuuji Otogi seated on the opposite side of the table _certainly _hadn't been there when he had closed his eyes.

"I never picked you for a shot-drinker," the Game Creator drawled, his green eyes gleaming as he lounged back in his chair.

Remus Lupin blinked again, attempting to clear the pronounced thought of, '_ugh!_' from his mind in order to make room for a new one.

"Sorry?" he murmured, pinching his nose and attempting not to look too distracted.

"You look like you've had practice," Otogi elaborated with a gesture in the goblets direction.

Realization dawned on the werewolf and he let out a soft slightly bitter chuckle, "more practice than I probably should have, but when it comes to medicine it's usually better not to savor the taste."

Nodding faintly but clearly not in the least bit interested in what Remus was saying, Otogi frowned slightly and toyed absently with his earring.

Raising an eyebrow the werewolf settled back in his chair and shoved the goblet away from him with more force than he had intended, "was there something you wanted?"

The Game Creator's eyes shot back to the wizard with a faint flash of surprise.

The flash of an understanding smile from the werewolf was enough to draw what had been hovering uncertainly on his tongue for a while now out of Otogi's mouth, accompanied with a resolute squaring of his shoulders, "I want to know more."

The faint raise of Lupin's eyebrow was enough to make the Game Creator's lips twitch in a faint uncertain smile and elaborate, "about my .. people. I want to know why I was locked away in prison without even a pretense at a fair trial."

Green eyes fixed determinedly upon those of the werewolf and he unconsciously lent forwards.

"I want to know _why _you fear me."

* * *

The world that surrounded him was a very different place than Seto was used to. 

Great pillars of marble and gauzy black draperies rose far over his head, the corridors lined with people who shied away, bowing their heads and kneeling. Even as he moved, following the predestined path that dreams always seem to have, he found it odd that a place he had never been before could ever feel so much like home.

.. And he _was _dreaming, he knew it as clearly as he knew each turn and twist of the path that would take him to his destination. How he knew he was dreaming he wasn't entirely certain of, but the scenario tasted of an often revisited bitterness that he found entirely disconcerting.

He turned, the gold at his throat and wrists catching hold of harsh sunlight that streamed through an opening near the ceiling and setting it alight. The fine blue cloth that trailed in his wake was clouded with dust – a testament to the path he had traveled upon his summons.

The people lining the streets had gawked as well, watching with morbid fascination as their High Priest, a _traitor _some said, had appeared for the first time since the news had come.

Their Pharaoh was dead, Seto knew and accepted with the ease of dreams, and their fate was uncertain – they had every right to treat him with such unease.

In the manner of dreams he felt as if he had labored for years yet in all of an instant he was presented with the line of faces that Seto had never known, yet he recognized with a familiarity that he did not question.

Their eyes were upon him, some veiled with accusations, other solemn and accepting yet no words were spoken.

"Why am I here?" he asked of the faces that watched him.

"To see," was the solemn voice from behind him that caused Seto to turn upon the Priest, "to feel."

Now it was Set whose blue robes were smothered in dust, _his_ eyes that were wounded with guilt.

"Why are you here?" Seto amended, disoriented by the abrupt change in roles as Set turned towards the group of silent and staring individuals.

"To explain," Set replied, kneeling in what must have been a designated empty space upon a mat that had been set upon the bare floor.

His lips uttered a soft and rhythmic chant that seemed to breeze through and over Seto's consciousness, in a language that was old and brittle. Fingers moved in sync with the smooth rhythm of his voice before he came to a pause, eyes turning back to Seto with a solemn expression.

"Where are we?"

The uncertainty in his own voice made Seto uncomfortable.

"You have strayed into a memory omote, a past that is now only a dream," the spirit gave a vague glance over the faces that filled the rest of the decidedly sparse gathering.

Spaces had been left for those who should have been there.

"This is your memory then," Seto resolved aloud, unsure if he was relieved by the revelation or not.

"One of my very last," the Spirit replied, his dark eyes fixed upon the still figures who filled those empty places.

So very few remained.

"The last days were not kind, suspicion was every where – no-one wished to acknowledge he had truly gone."

Set's eyes fixed upon the figure of a woman, kneeling closest to him. Seto was not surprised to see the striking resemblance between this woman and the woman he had once known as Isis Ishtar.

"This was the day that I was told that I must sacrifice myself to the Sennen Rod," Set's eyes turned onwards to the bald and still version of a much younger Shaada than the one that Seto had encountered.

"But," the Priest murmured as he turned his head away sharply, straightening his golden head-dress with trembling hands and casting one fleeting look at the row of faces that remained still before him, "there is always a reason."

Set's dark eyes turned directly upon his reincarnation's blue stare and his lips turned in something that could have resembled a smile.

"_It's time to wake up_."

With a jolt that was hazardous to his still half-asleep mind Seto Kaiba all but threw himself into a sitting position – eyes wide and his breath coming in harsh pants that didn't coincide at all with the clinging remnants of his dream.

Bedcovers sliding down his chest to pool in his lap the elder Kaiba turned his eyes toward the curtained window to find that, despite his best intentions, he had not gotten a 'good nights sleep' after all.

With a grunt of irritation the elder Kaiba slumped back onto his mattress and stared up at the ceiling with a scowl trailing across his lips.

The household was silent and still, it's occupants not due to awaken for a good few hours or so, and Seto found himself decidedly irritable that he seemed to have awoken for no apparent reason.

A soft scuffle permeating the air caused Seto to pause, tensing automatically before his eyes turned slowly to the small and skulking shadowed black figure that was huddled over one of Mokuba's bags.

Or perhaps not.

Seto made to rise again but found himself stilled by the light press of a hand upon his chest, eyes shot upwards to the faintly illuminated form of the High Priest who now stood beside Seto's bed, Rod in hand.

With a sudden flare of light that caused Seto to shield his sleep-ridden eyes a loud squealing rent the air and Mokuba shot up in bed letting out a snort and surprised grunt.

When the light had died down enough that Seto could lower his hands he found that the odd creature that had been stooped over Mokuba's belongings was now struggling ferociously against the invisible force that had him pinned to the nearest wall.

Pushing Set's hand away the elder Kaiba rose to his feet, ignoring the sleepy questioning from his younger brother in favor of getting a better look at the ugly wretch of a creature that had been skulking within his room.

If it weren't for it's distinctly bat-like ears and large fleshy nose, Seto thought he might have mistaken it for a shriveled and (_very_) shrunken old man.

It's watery grey eyes fixed upon Seto as he rose from his mattress to stand at Set's side, unknowingly mirroring the Spirits intimidating pose and stare as he fixed his attention upon the strange creature.

"What are you?" Set snarled in a carefully lowered tone as Mokuba rose to try and get a better look at the strange creature.

"Kreacher is a House Elf," it spoke in a decidedly whiny tone, it's eyes still fixed upon Seto with a curiously intent stare.

It was, Seto thought, one of the ugliest things that he had ever laid eyes on.

"And _what,_" Set continued with a narrowing of his dark eyes and an unconscious step forwards that half-shielded his reincarnation from the creatures view, "are you doing skulking around these rooms?"

Kreacher's eyes fixed upon the gleaming Rod that rested in the spirits hands and made another struggled attempt against the force that held him against the wall.

"Kreacher was cleaning," was the evasive mutter as his flailing limbs thumped against the walls.

The sounds of movement outside the doorway was enough warning that their attempts at being quiet had failed rather miserably.

"If you were cleaning, why were you doing so at night?" (**6**)

An odd smile crossed the House Elf's sallow mouth and it's grey eyes met the High Priest's, "the mark of a good House Elf is that you do not even know they are there."

A vague, somewhat hesitant knocking on Seto's door was backed up by an equally hesitant call from an obviously tired Bill Weasley, "Kaiba – what's going on?"

Mokuba ducked around his brother and Set to open the door, revealing a mixture of curious and apprehensive faces that pressed forwards in order to get a good view.

"_Kreacher!_" was the snarl from a decidedly unhappy and glaring Harry Potter as he elbowed passed Ron to get a glimpse of the familiar wretch pinned to the wall.

"Master, poor Kreacher was cleaning. Kreacher did nothing and the high and mighty filthy muggle attacked us," the watery grey stare that fixed upon Harry was about as earnest as Mundungus Fletcher and the House Elf clearly knew it, as he began to mutter to himself, "Master will send us back, Kreacher doesn't want to go back, he belongs in his mistresses house, he does."

"Kreacher I ordered you to Hogwarts," was the suspicious reply of an unfazed Harry, "why did you come back?"

The House Elf's watery stare turned away, "Kreacher belongs here, can't have filthy mud-bloods messing up my Mistress's house. Watch it, we must."

"_Why,_" Set snarled aloud as he thrust the Rod forwards in plain view of the creature who struggled away from its burning light, "were you looking through my omote's belongings?"

The House Elf abruptly let out another loud squeal that had a horrified Hermione shoving passed the Boy Who Lived to turn an indignant glare on the spirit, "_honestly _he _is _a living creature! Let him go."

"_Leave it_, Hermione," Ron muttered, grabbing the witch by the arm and attempting to drag her backwards.

Hermione, however, wasn't moving.

"_Oh_, the mudblood is talking about us, the filthy creature thinks she is helping Kreacher."

Ron's ears began to turn pink, "come _on _Hermione."

The witch ignored the youngest Weasley brother's attempts at persuasion and leveled a narrow glare upon the High Priest.

"He only wants to stay in his own home," she added with a scowl in Ron's direction and jerking her arm out of his grip, "let him go."

"_I _want to know what he was doing," Set replied sharply.

"Eyes," Seto muttered distractedly, one hand raking through his chestnut hair with a frown as he landed a blue glare upon the squealing creature. (**7**)

"He was scrounging around trying to dig up information, weren't you Kreacher?" was the sneer from behind them that startled the clustered group of Wizards and Witches at the doorway to let through the scowling Otogi Ryuuji.

The House Elf's eyes turned upon the familiar feeling stranger with a visible trace of disgust, "Master has returned again."

The spirit of Sirius Black settled for leveling a narrowed glare upon the House Elf, "who have you been talking to Kreacher?"

"Kreacher doesn't know what Master is talking about."

"You know exactly what I'm talking about you little worm," was the distasteful response that was punctuated by a growl as with a loud snap the House Elf broke free of his invisible restraints and fell into a groveling bow.

Before Set could return Kreacher to his captivity the House Elf abruptly disappeared with another loud snap, leaving behind him a group of disgruntled wizards and a thoughtful Seto Kaiba.

With a visible grimace the elder Kaiba brother cast a look that was steeped in regret back to his all-too inviting bed.

It seemed that _any_ hopes Seto had, had for getting a good nights sleep anytime soon had been completely and utterly squashed.

* * *

The dark corridors were almost silent now. 

The sounds of curses and brilliant rays of light that had characterized them only moments before having come to a standstill. Now the half-dozen or so wand-bearing cloaked wizards and witches that had been throwing them were gone, replaced by a number of motionless, childish dolls that lay limply upon the cold stone floor. (**8**)

With a soft caress to the warm gold that brushed against his chest, scarlet eyes turned upon the long corridor with a wicked curl of his lips. His feet not even making the barest of sounds as he continued his trek, the only sound spared being the soft whisper that was barely more than a breath of, '_show me._'

There was a soft clinking of delicate pointed pendants coated in a pale glow of light and the smile of the Tomb Robber tightened.

It was about _bloody_ time.

**

* * *

**

**Footnotes:  
One**. '_come to_' being the operative words. Shaadi certainly can't be classed as a 'benevolent' mystic now, can he?  
**Two**. Haha, does this speech seem familiar to you?  
**Three**. In reference to Seto's dramatic escape from the henchmen of the Big Five back in Duelist Kingdom .. One of my favorites of Seto's long line of dramatic entrances and exits.  
**Four**. My favourite line of the chapter.  
**Five**. A matter of personal belief.  
**Six**. This sentence gives me flashes of nostalgia regarding one of my sisters flatmates. Notoriously lazy she only every cleaned while everyone else was asleep, earning herself the nickname, 'She-Who-Only-Vacumes-At-Night.'  
**Seven**. -grins- Seto's train of thought shouldn't be _too _hard to follow.  
**Eight.** Now all Voldy needs is his very own doll house.

* * *

AN: A considerably shorter chapter you may notice with no little relief, or some disappointment. I'm actually considerably happy with this chapter despite it's awkwardness, I managed to get everything that needed to be done within a reasonable amount of time and it only took two weeks or so. Highlight of the chapter for me was being able to put on display the dysfunctional relationship that the Lestrange brothers have – and then of course, snatch it brutally away from them. The forum that I mentioned in the previous chapter shall be up and running sometime this week, so stop by if you have any major beef to discuss. A gigantic thank you to all who have reviewed – and I do have to say that a lot of you are eerily accurate in your assumptions, am I really that predictable?

* * *

"_Captain Jack is Back._"


	26. Half the Fun

**Book One of Eight;**

_**Chasing the Dragon  
**_**-Chapter Twenty** **Five-  
**Half the Fun.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-

* * *

_

The last thing that Yuugi Mutou expected (or to tell the truth, _wanted_) to find when he stumbled blearily back into his dark, dawn-lit room was a distractedly frowning Ryuuji Otogi.

After all, Yuugi thought that the forces of the world had finally agreed that one distraction per night was enough and Seto Kaiba had already claimed that slot.

Suppressing a yawn and rubbing blearily at his eyes, Yuugi attempted to smile but must have come up short as the Game Creator merely scowled right back at him. If Yuugi had known better he wouldn't have bothered at all – Otogi _certainly _wasn't in the mood.

"Yuugi," was the decidedly barbed greeting from an unsmiling Otogi.

The King of Games noted that the moody Game Creator had quite ungraciously taken up residence upon _his _bed.

"Otogi-kun," Yuugi replied with an attempt at sounding a great deal more enthusiastic than he was feeling, "was there something you wanted?"

"I _wanted_," Otogi replied, green eyes far too alert for so early in the morning, "to know why."

Yuugi blinked.

Otogi didn't elaborate.

Wondering silently if he had somehow blocked out the Game Creator's voice in mid-sentence the King of Games turned tired eyes upon that daunting green stare and yawned out an apologetic, "sorry?"

A dark eyebrow twitched upward over accusing green eyes and Yuugi shifted uncomfortably, privately debating if he could get away with switching places with the perfectly oblivious Atemu.

"_Why?_" Otogi snarled back with an abruptness that made all thoughts of changing places dart momentarily out of Yuugi's mind.

"M'sorry," Yuugi slurred, holding back another yawn with great difficulty, "I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about."

"_I_," Otogi replied in a decidedly frosty tone, "had a chat with Lupin earlier."

Yuugi found his mind reeling at the prospect of an _earlier_ and found his fingers entwining in thick, unruly hair in an attempt to keep from rubbing at his eyes.

"He's a _nice _guy that Lupin, told me all kinds of things, including the reason why _I _got landed in a wratched, run-down slice of hellon earth."

Green eyes flashed ominously and Yuugi suddenly felt very much like a mouse that had been cornered by a particularly bad-tempered cat.

"You want to know _why _Yuugi?"

All too aware of the fact that he had been avoiding this conversation for far too long the King of Games nodded his head almost hesitantly, not quite trusting his tongue to produce any intelligible sounds.

"It's all because of _you._"

Yuugi flinched and felt a swell of indignation rise within his chest as Atemu awoke to their situation.

"_Me?_"

Otogi's lips curled in a derisive sneer and he rose into a sitting position, the shadows in his eyes more pronounced then ever, "the _only _reason that those bumbling idiots at the Ministry of Magic have any interest whatsoever in _me _is because of _you_."

Yuugi found that his brain was rather unwilling to process this rather harsh attack and his lips worked in silence for a moment.

"They attacked _me _because they saw me with _you._"

Another flinch marked another direct hit and Yuugi took a step backwards subconsciously, infinitely pleased by the warmth that leaked from the puzzle at his neck and the brush of fingers upon his shoulders as the Pharaoh materialized at his back.

"Otogi-kun," Yuugi murmured, stuck somewhere in the mid-ground of protesting and apologizing.

"Save it Yuugi," the genuine frustration in Otogi's eyes was evident as he rose to his feet, "I expected nothing less from Kaiba and even from Bakura .. But you're our resident superman – _you _were supposed to help me out like a _friend _would."

Atemu took a step passed the started Yuugi and fixed a protective crimson glare upon the Game Creator, a warning, Otogi surmised with narrowed eyes. But Otogi had never been the type to back down so easily.

"I spent _weeks _in that place Yuugi, but every time I go to sleep it feels like I'm back there again."

A bitter laugh escaped the Game Creator's lips and he sunk back down onto the mattress with a shake of his head, long fingers rubbing at his eyelids.

"I'm sorry," the King of Games murmured, eyes fixed on the boy that he was beginning to realize he really didn't know all that well, "I didn't know .."

Atemu was not quite so placating.

"If the Ministry were after you because of your association with us then why did they not attack Jou or Anzu or Honda?"

Otogi's eyes darkened as they turned upon the vague haze of the spirit that he could discern, "they don't belong to a disgruntled gypsy clan, do they?"

Atemu's stare didn't falter nor did his voice tremor, "they assumed you were assisting us."

The green stare turned aside and long fingers plucked at the bed-covers absently, knowing all too well that a response was not required of him. Otogi seemed to deliberate to himself for a few moments before lifting his stare again to fix it upon the solemn stare of Yuugi Mutou, he let out another bitter laugh before rising to his feet.

"You're too caught up in this super-hero complex to see what's right in front of you, aren't you?"(**1**)

When Yuugi failed to answer, the Game Creator gave a rueful half-grimace and slipped passed him to get to the doorway. Upon reaching it he paused, hesitating before turning to look over his shoulder, " not everything is about saving the world Mutou – sometimes it's the little people that could use some help."

* * *

"Well?"

The grey light of dawn had done little to shed any light on the question that had prevented Seto from returning to his dreams as Mokuba had done with the reckless abandon of a normal teenager. The elder Kaiba was almost certain that the House Elf whom the bushy-haired and opinionated teenaged witch had described as, 'harmless if a bit senile' was anything _but _harmless and not so much senile as slyer than a fox.

And at least Set seemed to finally be _agreeing _with him on something.

"Omote?"

Seto turned a tired stare upon the now frowning Set and shook his head as if to clear it, leaning back against the peeling wallpaper with a soft thump and withholding the grimace that sought to surface, "I don't _know._"

And the scariest thing was that it was the truth.

"I don't _know _who is controlling that _thing _and I don't _know _why it is so interested in rummaging through my – _our _belongings. It could be any one of the enemies that I've apparently drummed up during my time spent staring at these bloody walls."

There was a whisper of air as Set settled down beside him, back against the peeling wallpaper and legs draped the wrong-way across the mattress. Together they watched as the grey light of dawn slowly infiltrated the room through the worn dust-laden curtains.

"I don't know either," the spirit mused to the air with a distant look in his eyes, "how you manage to make enemies of people you've never even met is a mystery that could baffle the best philosophers the worlds ever seen omote."

Seto turned his eyes towards the spirit with a trace of annoyance which faltered at the faint twitch of Set's lips.

"I don't know about the Philosophers," Seto replied with the barest of grimaces, "but I've spent a fortune on scientific research trying to figure out the answer to that exact question."

Set's eyebrows twitched upwards in a teasing show of mock-surprise, "and how do you think that went?"

"They got nothing," Seto replied dryly. (**2**)

Set's eyes gleamed as a pearly beam of light broke through the thick folds of the curtains to attack the younger Kaiba brothers face with curious precision.

"What'd I tell you omote, you're one of life's mysteries."

Seto's lips curled and he let out a quiet snort of amusement as Mokuba let out a moan of distress and cringed away from the offensive light, "if I'm a mystery then what exactly are _you?_"

Set straightened his posture and turned a perfectly serious stare upon his reincarnation, "_I _am the revered one."

Seto's mocking laughter was the last straw in Mokuba's fight against the waking world and he lifted his head to direct a decidedly grumpy half-glazed stare in his brother and the spirits direction.

With wisps of dark hair sticking up in absurd angles and his expression as fierce as it had ever been, Seto was unable to stop the laughter which flooded from him in a tangled mess of bitterness, mirth and hopeless desperation.

When Mokuba extracted an arm from his sheets to swat away an errant strand of hair that was tickling his nose and attempted to glare the laughter out of his elder brother, Set joined his reincarnation in laughing at the seeming hopelessness of their situation.

Thus, Mokuba found himself presented with one of the strangest sites to ever grace the walls of the most ancient and noble House of Black (and _that _was saying a lot) and feeling decidedly unequipped to deal with it he did what any normal teenager _would _have done at such a ridiculous hour of the morning. He wrenched his bedcovers over his head and let out a muffled groan of, "would you two _shut up?_"

Seto's laughter was obligingly stifled into the occasional chuckle and he cast a strangely serious stare upon the High Priest suddenly, his eyes echoing the determination that steeled his voice, "I may not know now, but I'm sure as Hell going to find out."

Lips quirked in an odd half-smile and Seto's voice darkened as he added, "it's about time I took control of my life again."

The touch of faint surprise on Set's face was followed by a tentative yet carefully impassive murmur of, "and us omote?"

A cold flicker of something touched the elder Kaiba brother's face as he moved across the mattress to stand and stretch his legs out, eyes briefly turning upon the lump of blankets that made up his brother before turning back to the window, head turned carefully away from the spirit as he replied in that same low tone, "ask me again when we get out of here."

* * *

Otogi Ryuuji found himself suitably impressed.

In his life he had seen many luxurious parades of great wealth on varying scales – but one thing he had never had the privilege of seeing was a castle.

Aware that his reaction was being gauged by three grinning wizards and a sulking baby dragon, Otogi raised an eyebrow and drawled lightly, "a bit big isn't it?"

Bill Weasley's lips quirked and he continued his trek along the path to the large entrance doors with a dry response of, "you'll find that most castles _are _big. I imagine that the founders would have been glad for the space."

"Space from old Slytherin you mean," Charlie muttered as he followed his brothers lead, Kleidon beating his wings irritably at the sudden movement, "who wouldn't want space from a lunatic who kept a giant man-eating snake?" (**3**)

Wincing as one of the dragons wings caught him around the back of the head in an act that he convinced himself was entirely accidental, Charlie added a careful, "Professor Dumbledore knows we are coming today doesn't he?"

The apprehensive look spared in Otogi's direction caused the Game Creator to scowl and Remus Lupin to crack a smile.

"Yes, Professor Dumbledore is well aware of our arrival and I'm sure he has taken all the necessary precautions," the werewolf replied as he fell into step with the Weasley brothers, allowing Otogi to trail behind them at his own pace.

None of the wizards had failed to notice the Game Creator's less than pleasant temperament that morning.

Taking in the view with no little appreciation Otogi's eyes caught suddenly upon what he thought must have been a rather realistic (and decidedly _huge_) statue near the entrance-way. Closer inspection, however, found that the statue was _waving _at them.

"It's Hagrid," Charlie declared with a genuine grin flashing across his face, "he'll be chuffed to meet _you _Kleidon."

Otogi's stomach churned at the enthusiasm that the Dragon Keeper seemed to hold at meeting someone that looked like he was more then capable of grinding their bones to make his bread. (**4**)

Suitably concerned at the _lack _of concern that his companions were showing the Game Creator slowed to a dawdle and observed with narrowed eyes as they drew closer to the wild-man, somewhat pleased when Bill, upon seeing his hesitation, commented, "Hagrid is the groundskeeper and a teacher here at Hogwarts, he's completely harmless."

Privately doubting that _anyone _of Hagrid's size could be completely harmless and unable to shake the ominous whisper of '_fe, fi, fo, fum_' that hissed through his mind, Otogi followed the trio of wizards as they greeted the grinning Hagrid.

"Dumbledore said yeh'd be coming," he declared cheerfully.

Otogi squirmed upon seeing a pair of _very _dead pole-cats draped around the half-Giants neck and fought the urge to edge backwards.

Keen dark eyes raked over the group before landing of the huffy Kleidon – after that it seemed that Hagrid had eyes for no one else.

"Dumbledore said yeh'd brought a dragon home with yeh Charlie, what kind is 'e?"

A huge finger stretched towards the watchful creature, whose eyes had turned an ominous near-black in color over the course of the morning.

"An Antipodean Opal-Eye," Charlie recited enthusiastically, "his mother rejected him so I brought him home with me. He's a bit moody this morning but he's very good-natured for a dragon of his kind."

Otogi scoffed just loud enough for Charlie to level a scowl at him, but not quite loud enough for Hagrid to notice, as he bent to get a better look at the creature and crooned, "'e's beautiful."

All too aware that he was the center of attention, Kleidon began to preen.

Otogi grimaced and mused coolly, "the only reason he's in a bad mood is because you tore him away from Kaiba."

Charlie cast a miffed look at the Game Creator as Bill and Remus hid identical smiles and exchanged glances.

"This'll be 'togi then?" came the assessment from the half-giant whose attention had finally been separated from the tiny dragon.

"Otogi Ryuuji," the Game Creator replied coolly, determined not to be intimidated by the other mans size and failing miserably.

"Damn shame what the Prophet's been sayin' 'bout you kids – it's a crime it is."

Unsure of quite what to say and with eyes glued to the dead animals hung about the half-Giant's neck, Otogi blurted out the first thing that came to mind with a lack of composure that was entirely foreign to him, "early brunch is it?"

The half-Giant cast him an odd look, eyes turning from the all-but squirming Game Creator to the stiffly swinging pole-cats before Lupin spoke up with a half-amused, half reprimanding look in Otogi's direction and a shrug for Hagrid's benefit, "he's foreign."

Hagrid's dark eyes lingered on the Game Creator with open bewilderment before he shook his head and cast his attention onwards after an awkward break in conversation and a mutter of, "err .. Right."

"Good ter see yeh again Remus," the Half-Giant continued loudly, shaking one of the werewolf's hands with his own considerably larger one and avoiding looking at Otogi with an odd expression on his face.

"Bill," he added, moving onto shaking the eldest Weasley's hand as well.

"I'd best let you lot get on with it then – jus' wanted ter say 'ello."

With one last nod the Half-Giant parted his way with the group and shooting one last distracted look at the Game Creator with bemusement he loped off towards a ramshackle cottage across the grounds, the polecats banging against his shoulder-blades as he walked.

"_Brunch_?" Charlie muttered with a skeptical raise of his eyebrow.

Remus Lupin's lips faintly curved as he caught the soft murmur of, "_I smell the blood of an English man,_" from the slightly dazed Otogi and the werewolf waved them forwards with a shake of his head and an attempt to suppress the laughter that lingered in his throat.

"Let's get on with it then."

_

* * *

_

The King of Thieves was beginning to think that the effort he had put into his self-styled rescue mission (in aid of his precious eye of course, Ishtar could be eaten by Ammut for all _he _cared) had been severely wasted.

Ryou hadn't questioned the matter, he knew better than anyone that the King of Thieves didn't do anything out of the goodness of his heart.

Bakura _always _had an agenda.

The brief excitement that had followed his skirmish with the minions of the much feared Dark Lord had died down to a mere flicker as the Tomb Robber followed the Ring's directions down a dimly lit and all _too _deserted passageway.

If Bakura didn't know better he might have _almost _believed that he was disappointed – even breaking through the Pharaoh's flimsy excuse for a defense had been harder than _this._

Casting a scowl down the corridor the King of Thieves stepped up his leisurely swagger into a more efficient stride. After all, if there was no danger involved to make it fun then he wanted his excursion over and done with as quickly as possible.

Almost relieved at seeing a faint light illuminating the carved doorway, Bakura slowed back to a more suitable roguish swagger and strode through the opening with an arrogance that he fancied even Kaiba would have been proud of.

As it was, his effort went to a complete waste, as the only occupant of the room in sight was busy striking up a cigarette and looking remarkably self-absorbed.

And _nothing _irritated the King of Thieves more than a good entrance gone to waste.

Disgusted that the conclusion of his grand treasure hunt was as much of a let-down as the middle and beginning had been, Bakura stalked forwards with a low irritable growl.

By the time the Death Eater finally noticed the newest occupant of the room, all dramatic flair had gone flying out the window, leaving only a highly ticked-off scowl and a matching glare in it's place.

"I suppose you're here for him," was the decidedly too mild assessment that caused a twitch of Bakura's eyebrow.

Watching as the Death Eater took another leisurely drag from his cigarette, Bakura made an effort to retain his earlier swagger, an effort made increasingly more difficult in the face of such utter indifference.

"Mind the body," was the added advice accompanied by a titter of bitter laughter, "it's my brother you see."

Bakura watched with sharp eyes as the man straightened and stepped away form his wall of choice, glancing every so often at what looked like a Magic and Wizards card that was clutched tight between his fingers. (**5**)

Taking one last, long drag of his cigarette he threw it aside and turned mahogany eyes on the Tomb Robber, releasing the last wisp of smoke from his lips they curled in an oddly appraising half-smile and a wand was drawn into one hand.

"Rabastan Lestrange," he declared aloud with an odd inclination of his head that Bakura didn't completely comprehend.

'_He appears to be introducing himself,_' was the casual side-comment from a quietly amused Ryou.

'_I knew that,_' the Tomb Robber grumbled back, scarlet eyes fixed upon the stranger, telling himself that he was not at all disturbed by the careful observation he was now under.

Ignoring the bubble of carefully suppressed laughter that washed over him, the King of Thieves narrowed his crimson eyes and replied coldly, "Ryou Bakura."

The Death Eater's lips turned and he cast a semi-amused glance in the direction of the cell that he stood so very close to now, "one of the other brats that the Ministry has been trying to peg down."

Obviously noticing something that Bakura had not the Death Eater returned his wand to his pocket and seemed to relax, "since you're here for him I assume that I should tell you dear Bellatrix broke him."

The King of Thieves took another step forward and was, for the first time, greeted with a sight that incited a feeling of complete and utter fury.

In the place of the irritating and sarcastic Ishtar that the Tomb Robber had spent a great deal of time with of late, was the decidedly _more _irritating and less sarcastic than _insane _version that had dominated a great deal of his memories of Battle City – and what's more, the lunatic was wearing _his _eye.

_Anger _could not hope to describe the feeling that rose in the chest of the Tomb Robber as he took a step towards the now laughing form of the insane Ishtar.

'_Blood,_' he promised himself privately, '_lots and lots of blood._'

After all, that promise he had thrown Ryou's way concerning the removal of eyes in future times had been made on a Thief's Honor. It was the Yadunoshi's fault if he took it for an honest pledge.

Fingers itching to catch hold of something and smite the life from it, the Tomb Robber made to stalk towards the cell only to a find a pale and perfectly transparent apparition was blocking his way. (**6**)

Ryou stood with his back to the infuriated King of Thieves before the barred doorway, eyes fixed on the malicious smile that the Egyptian had fixed upon his face. Large brown eyes sought out the one remaining lavender eye and a curious smile crossed the white-haired boys lips.

"Hello Malik."

* * *

Otogi was quickly coming to the conclusion that he liked the outer appearance of Hogwarts Castle a great deal more than what was on the inside - and if that made him shallow, he didn't care.

After sinking through the third trick-stair that the wizards had conveniently _forgotten_ to warn him about and having to be hauled out by the Weasley brothers, _again_, Otogi was beginning to think that even the impressive outer appearance was not so great as to redeem it.

They were headed, he had been told, to Professor Dumbledore's office before they went in search of the rampant piece of Sirius' soul – and as they walked Remus Lupin was making good on his pledge to inform Otogi of his ancestry.

Not that Otogi had managed to commit any of it memory.

If the Game Creator hadn't known better he might have thought that the Castle was making it it's business to give Otogi as much trouble as it possibly could.

Otogi figured that recent events had tickled his paranoid tendencies .. Letting out a loud curse as he tripped over the outstretched leg of a gleaming suit of armor, the Game Creator was saved from a collision with the dusty stone-floor by Charlie grabbing his arm .. Or maybe not.

"The wars were begun by a division between two races of magical people. The Gypsies and the Wizards. Gypsies practiced the more dangerous magic's, relying on the elements of nature and humanity to lend them their power."

"Elements?" Otogi questioned as he cast a scowl at a smirking Charlie Weasley as he pretended to be tickling the baby dragon beneath its chin.

"Fire, earth, air, water, flesh, blood, bone and soul," Bill recited over his shoulder, earning a grimace and a mutter of, "nerd," from his brother.

"These magic's are unpredictable and volatile," Remus continued as he reached the next floor and headed down a corridor with a brief glance over his shoulder, "they require more strength of will than the more traditional practices. The practitioners of the more traditional avenues, the Wizards, were doubtlessly intimidated by this. The two peoples split and that's when the trouble began."

Otogi skipped a step with narrowed eyes that all three Wizards had simultaneously avoided and narrowly avoided the outstretched arm of another suit of armor by ducking at the last moment.

"Oh yeah," the Game Creator muttered, eying the armor as it's arm fell back to it's side with a screech of metal, "_definitely _not paranoid."

"-Jealousy and suspicion sprang up on both sides. Every time a disaster of some kind occurred, the Wizards would accuse the Gypsies of being the cause, a backlash of upsetting the balance of nature and messing with forces beyond their control."

Eyes fixed on the back of Remus Lupin's head, Otogi hurried passed another motionless suit of armor with a twinge of suspicion, listening intently as the Werewolf spoke.

"Nobody truly knows what prompted the first attack – but it is said that a group of Wizards went in search of one of the most prominent clans. They attacked in the dead of night, murdering over half of the clan in their beds."

Otogi's eyes flashed and he heard a soft titter from somewhere over his head, raising his eyes he caught sight of a short, stout knight in one of the paintings who made a decidedly unfriendly hand gesture in the Game Creator's direction.

"The Gypsy clan's of course retaliated – they performed terrible curses upon their enemies that were the birth of some of the darkest creatures in existence."

Otogi's stare wasn't the only one to lock upon the werewolf's figure as he came to a pause before a large carved statue of a Gryffin some distance down the hall.

Lupin seemed lost in his own thoughts as a small, bitter smile crossed his face before he shook it off and declared resolutely, "Professor Dumbledore is expecting us."

Ignoring the stares that remained upon him the Werewolf muttered, "Jelly Slugs", and watched as the Gryffin moved aside to reveal a large, winding staircase.

_

* * *

_

In Seto's experience there were many, varied reasons for the presence of an awkward silence like the one that currently inhabited the space between Yuugi Mutou and himself – and more often than not Seto was either A) responsible for it, or, B) the reason itself.

As it was the silence didn't bother the elder Kaiba – but it was bugging the hell out of his younger brother.

Mokuba wasn't entirely certain _why _Yuugi Mutou looked as if someone had run over his puppy and was studiously avoiding eye-contact with his elder sibling, nor was he sure why Set had been looking distracted and broody again.

But, Mokuba Kaiba was not stupid, and he had more than a fair clue of what, or rather, _who, _was responsible for the breakdown in communications. And he was not about to stand for it.

Though by the looks of things Mokuba would have to act quickly – Seto seemed to have hijacked his train of thought already.

"Yuugi," Mokuba all but blurted out as Seto landed one of his strangely compelling stares upon his younger sibling.

The King of Games started, his eyes widening as they shot towards Mokuba with a surprise that suggested his attention had been otherwise engaged. With a tremor of a smile Yuugi responded in a decidedly dispirited tone, "yes Mokuba?"

If Seto Kaiba had been a railway crossing rather than the CEO of a multi-national corporation, the gates would have been down, the bells would have been ringing and the lights would have been flashing faster than a disco strobe-light.

Seto, however, was not a railway crossing – and thus had to settle for the decidedly more subtle (though _equally _effective) method of narrowing his eyes until he was close to squinting and shifting his head, just so, so as Mokuba would bear the full brunt of his warning.

Unfortunately, Mokuba was determined, and tired – and when Mokuba was grumpy and that particular stubborn look entered his eyes, even Seto's best efforts would prove to no avail.

It was, after all, for his brothers own good. Or at least, that's what the younger Kaiba would protest when he got the message, which Seto was currently trying to transmit telepathically, in verbal form in the very near future.

"Yuugi, I want to know why you haven't said a word since Otogi-kun left this morning."

Yuugi seemed less than relieved at Mokuba's question, Seto's suspicious stare refused to relent and Mokuba put little effort into hiding the devious smile that threatened his lips.

_He knows me too well,_ the younger Kaiba mused to himself with the faintest touch of pleasure and a brief glance in his elder brother's direction.

Mokuba fixed his stare back upon the apologetically smiling Yuugi as he replied in that same gloomy tone, "sorry Mokuba, I've been preoccupied."

At the slight twitch of a dark eyebrow from the mini-Kaiba, Yuugi let out a nervous half-laugh and elaborated with only a trace of hesitation, "I've been trying to figure out why we are of such interest to these wizards."

Seto's lips curved as he drawled aloud to seemingly no one in particular, "and here was _I _thinking that a crystal ball and soggy tea-leaves were reason enough."

Mokuba shot a quelling look in his brothers direction which was, unfortunately, not quick enough to soothe a frowning Set.

"There is a _difference,_" was the indignant snarl from the dark-eyed Priest, "between _cheap _fortune-telling and the unshakable hands of _Fate._"

Seto's eyebrows leapt upwards in feigned surprise and, upon recognizing the familiar taunting gleam that was flirting with his brothers eyes, Mokuba cut him off with a less than subtle and noticeably _fake _cough.

Apparently it had been too much to hope that the truce the pair had seemed to reach that morning would prevent the callous jibes that had become something of a favorite pastime between the pair.

Yuugi observed the exchange uncomfortably and attempted to be as inconspicuous as possible – an attempt not at all assisted by the sudden appearance of the _anything _but subtle, and still somewhat irritable, resident of the Sennen Puzzle.

"My Pharaoh," Set greeted with an elegant inclination of his head, dark eyes studiously watching the reaction of his reincarnation the barest of smirks marring his act of deference.

Seto's own smirk slipped sharply.

If Atemu realized he was being used as an act of revenge he did not acknowledge it, he merely nodded his respects back in the High Priests direction and fixed his attention on the decidedly less obliging form of Seto Kaiba.

He seemed about to speak when the door was unceremoniously thrown open and a bustle of activity breezed inside the tense atmosphere. Four familiar teenagers were admitted, locked in a furious discussion that prevented them from noticing the situation they had intruded upon.

"- But what _I _want to know," Ron Weasley was stating loudly as they entered, a conspiracy theorist's gleam in his eyes, "is _what _that nasty little toe-rag was looking for in his room."

"_Ron,_ he has a name," was the sharp reproach from an indignant Hermione, "and I'm more interested in _why_."

The Boy Who Lived seemed just as preoccupied with these questions as his companions, leaving it to Ginny to notice the less than hospitable stares that they had unknowingly invoked. Punching her brother roughly in the arm, without even an attempt at discretion, as he launched into another tangent she procured a brave smile and shuffled backwards.

"Ouch! - Ginny what'd you do that for?" was the pained whine as Ron wheeled upon his sister and copped an eyeful of the dampening scowls that liberally populated the room.

"Sorry," Hermione declared briskly as she took in the less than accommodating atmosphere.

When no response was readily offered she snatched something from a bewildered Harry's hand and moved towards an openly surprised (and decidedly _miserable)_ looking Yuugi.

"You must've dropped this."

She extended her hand to offer what was very clearly a Magic and Wizards Card to the King of Games whose eyebrows furrowed and instantaneously blurted out with a hint of indignation, "I'd _never _lose one of my cards! It must be-"

Before Yuugi's tongue could even _comprehend_ forming Seto's name the elder Kaiba had snarled, "only an idiot would be careless enough to drop one of their cards and not _know _about it." (**7**)

Obviously surprised by the volatile responses she had received Hermione almost drew back her hand, but held her ground when Mokuba attempted an intervention with a casual suggestion of, "perhaps it is Otogi-kun's?"

The look on Seto's face indicated that he thought it was precisely the kind of thing that the Game Creator _would _do.

"No," Yuugi murmured back, "Otogi-kun isn't much of a duelist .. I _mean_-"

Seto barely contained his amusement as Yuugi turned pink at the thought of unintentionally slighting his friend and took full advantage of the situation to throw fuel onto the fire.

"He beat the mutt didn't he?"

Horrified amethyst eyes turned upon the elder Kaiba and his eyebrows furrowed as he reflexively defended his best friend, "Jou let Otogi-kun trick him! - _not _to say that Otogi isn't a _good duelist._"

The smug set of Seto's face cut the King of Games off in mid-sentence and he scowled at the elder Kaiba before concluding, "the _point _is that I don't think Otogi-kun even has his deck with him."

A soft huff accompanying the decidedly pink complexion that had sprung up, Yuugi leveled a distressed look upon the Spirit of the Puzzle in an appeal for help.

"I think," Set intervened with a brief glance of well-hidden amusement in his reincarnation's direction in acknowledgment of a well-placed hit, "the obvious conclusion is to _look _at the card."

Scowling at the idea of taking the all too reasonable advice from it's smirking source, Yuugi took the offered card from a now decidedly bemused Hermione and the groups eyes watched as he turned the card over and his mouth dropped open in surprise, "it's – it's Change of Heart.."

Seto raised an eyebrow boredly.

"This is Bakura-kun's favorite card – he wouldn't be careless enough to just drop it anywhere."

The disapproval in Yuugi's tone was more than evident.

"Then he didn't," Seto replied boredly, his eyes turning towards the frowning Pharaoh as he took an unconscious step towards the elder Kaiba.

"What do you mean Kaiba?"

The look in his crimson eyes was strangely hard to place.

"I _mean,_" Seto replied with a visible grimace as he reached down to grab hold of his laptop from it's resting place beside his chair, "that he's coming back."

* * *

The dungeons of Hogwarts Castle were exactly what Otogi had always expected dungeons to be like.

They were cold, dark and smelled strongly of over-cooked cabbage and sweaty shoes – and somehow Otogi had been persuaded into scouring them for any out of the ordinary paranormal activity.

A scowl tugging at his lips and more convinced now then ever that this castle _really _didn't like him, the Game Creator flicked wisps of dark hair out of his eyes and wrinkled his nose at the source of the sweaty-shoe smell that had been harassing his nostrils.

A black, uniform school shoe with the tag, _N. Longbottom_, sewn into the back had been stuffed into one of the shelving systems that fell under Otogi's designated inspection area.

And to make matters worse, Charlie Weasley had been whistling the same jaunty tune for the past half an hour.

Narrowing green eyes at the strongly smelling article Otogi carefully tossed it away from the shelf and returned to his inspection, smirking at the corresponding yelp that accompanied it meeting it's intended target.

At least the whistling had stopped.

Repressing a snicker the Game Creator paused to inspect the long row of battered textbooks that had been stacked untidily within the lowest shelf and as a result been splattered liberally with stains and tagged ruthlessly with graffiti.

Picking one that's title had transformed from, '_Advanced Potion Making,_' to '_Advanced Pattern Making_,' with an additional note of, 'because even knitting has to be better than _this_,' scrawled beneath, Otogi's lips quirked and he began to thumb through it.

Choosing to ignore the scowl that had settled upon him from across the dungeon, the Game Creator read with morbid interest the progressively worsening line of disgusting ingredients that the potion's required.

When a shadow abruptly obscured the very little light that the dungeon provided, Otogi raised his eyes to meet the decidedly unamused stare of Charlie Weasley.

"We should move on," the Dragon Keeper grunted as Otogi snapped the book shut and tossed it back onto the pile of similarly abused text-books, "there's nothing here."

"Brilliant deduction Sherlock," the Game Creator replied with a sarcastic turn of his lips as he extended a hand to the Dragon Keeper and was hauled off of the floor, "next you'll be telling me that all that jaunty whistling is really a self-composed Siren call that'll have that rascally spirit come running."

Charlie scowled and released the Game Creator's hand, fingers absently ghosting over the snout of the baby dragon who snapped his teeth in response, "nervous habit," he muttered as he turned back towards the doorway, "I never liked these dungeons – never liked Potions either."

The Game Creator raised an eyebrow and progressed towards the doorway with a faintly amused glance over his shoulder, "funny that – this entire castle seems to have a thus far unexplained dislike for me."

Otogi didn't catch the twitch of amusement that crossed the Dragon Keeper's face before he replied, his tone dry, "I think you've been inside for too long – that's a bad case of paranoia you seem to be developing."

Letting the comment slide for the time being the Game Creator began to ascend the stairs, turning briefly to glance over his shoulder and declaring in a carefully civil tone, "where to then?"

Abruptly sinking up to his knee in what should have been (and _had _been) solid stone the Game Creator's green eyes narrowed and he leveled a sardonic stare upon the Dragon Keeper.

"Oh so I'm _paranoid_," he ground out with a raise of his eyebrow as Charlie fought back a wave of laughter and moved forward to haul the Game Creator out of the step.

"The next one I suppose?" Charlie declared with a grin as Otogi was pulled free and leveled a narrowed stare on the redhead.

"You'd think," came the irritable growl from a scowling Bill as he emerged from another of the connecting dungeons and trudged down the stairwell towards them, "that he'd _want _to be found."

The mild response that was just touched by good-humor was obviously not in the least bit intended to placate the disgruntled Bill, "if I know Sirius then he is probably regarding this as one big game. He'll show up eventually."

The eldest Weasley brother grimaced, "bloody great _game_."

"What about Snape's office?" Charlie suggested as the pair drew closer, "if I wanted to harass Snape I'd at least go for something personal."

"Good idea," was the cheerful response from Lupin as he beckoned for them to follow him back the way that he and Bill had come, "Sirius would like nothing better then to mess with Severus' personal belongings."

"As would we all," Charlie muttered beneath his breath as he followed the Werewolf's lead.

There was an eagerness to the Werewolf's movements that Otogi had never before witnessed – and if the looks that the Weasley brothers were exchanging were any indication it wasn't just due to a lack of observation on Otogi's part.

Boots clunking on the stone steps and not entirely caring, the Game Creator followed after the trio, watching with vague disinterest as the Weasley brothers shoved each other lightly on their way up the steps.

As Lupin pushed his way into the decidedly gloomy inner-sanctum of Severus Snape he found himself tense with apprehension.

The same slimy objects floating in slimy jars were there – with a few new additions to add to the certain morbid ambiance that the room had always possessed. Books and quills littered the desk and it seemed that the office's occupant hadn't been in residence for at least a few days.

Over all, it was much as Remus remembered it being and not at all in the condition that a rampant Sirius Black would have left it in.

Heart sinking, the werewolf sank into the nearest chair and tried his best not to reveal the disappointment that rose inside of him.

Otogi entered the room with far less enthusiasm, nose wrinkling at the prime example of interior design for the gloomy introvert and instinctively avoiding contact with any and all surfaces save to lean against one of the tall storage cabinets that stood at the side of the doorway.

"And here was I thinking that that overgrown bat couldn't get any creepier," was the decidedly disgusted groan as the Game Creator caught sight of a poster depicting the effects of a decidedly gruesome curse in morbid detail.

Green eyes turned upon the Weasley brother's who were eyeing the room with similar distaste and a dark eyebrow shot upward as he mouthed, "_morbid much?_"

"Severus was always very interested in the dark arts," Lupin murmured quietly as he rose to his feet again, dusting his hands off with a grimace, "and it seems we have intruded on his privacy for no reason. Sirius is clearly not here."

Otogi raised an eyebrow at the decidedly disappointed tone that carried in the Werewolf's voice.

"So, what now? Do we crank out a Ouija Board and summon up this bad boy?"

Bewildered eyes turned upon the Game Creator with varying shades of interest and he let out a dismissive laugh, "just a suggestion."

"Perhaps," Remus began aloud with a faint shake of his head, "we should take a break and go get some lunch. Professor Dumbledore _did _invite us to eat with him and the staff in the Great Hall."

Otogi's enthusiasm sky-rocketed and his lips curled in his first true smile of the morning, "just show me the way."

As the group filed out of the gloomy office, brightened by the thought of a break from their search and a meal, Otogi couldn't help but think that they had missed something.

But perhaps it was the pair of faintly translucent jiggling booted feet that were hanging, swinging boredly, over the edge of one of the tall storage cabinets that stood to either side of the doorway, barely inches over the space that the Game Creator's head had previously occupied.

* * *

The pale, white-haired boy stared calmly into the abyss of darkness that had consumed Malik Ishtar unflinchingly, solemnly assessing the figure that he had never personally met face to face, but had populated the majority of the very scarce conversation that was to be had of Battle City.

Ryou was aware of the less than pleased stare that rested on his back, courtesy of a scowling Tomb Robber whose debates over just _how _he should go about tearing his eye back out of Malik's flesh were spilling over into Malik's mind, just as he was aware of the surprised and calculative stare of the Death Eater to his left.

Yet, with an air that had been accomplished by many opportunities to practice, Ryou ignored them both and focused upon the out of control Egyptian that was currently prowling the confined space he had been imprisoned in.

"_Yadunoshi_," was the abrupt snarl, nothing short of a demand from the decidedly ill-tempered Tomb Robber, "you might not have noticed, but that would be the _less _friendly version of Ishtar."

Ryou's lip quirked faintly and he cast a half-laughing brown glance over his shoulder in the direction of his bad-tempered resident Spirit, "I'd noticed."

"Then you might _also _have noticed that he is currently wearing _my _eye."

There was just a hint of jealousy coloring Bakura's voice.

"I noticed that as well," Ryou replied softly, ignoring the warning that lay beneath Bakura's carefully chosen words for the time being, instead watching as the grip that the darkness had on the Egyptian slipped for the briefest of moments.

A hoarse growl of, "_Shaada_," ground through the air.

Bakura stiffened noticeably at the name and cast a surreptitious glance around the room.

Ryou made an effort to mask his smile and focused upon the Egyptian, watching the struggle that raged within the boy through the turmoil in that singular eye.

"What _about _Shaada?" the Tomb Robber snarled, having established that the aforementioned was not present, scarlet eyes fixing upon the hunk of gold that glittered in the Egyptian's eye-socket.

"He told me," Malik hissed, fingers twisting in strands of copper-stained blond, "_told _me to take it."

Something flashed through the Tomb Robber's eyes and he growled something entirely uncomplimentary beneath his breath which Ryou pointedly ignored.

"I can't beat it," was the panicked hiss before a slow dawdling smile crawled across the Egyptian's lips and his entire demeanor changed once again, in the blink of an eye the prey was gone and the predator was once again prowling.

"I'm stronger," was the soft crooning taunt, "I made us _both _stronger."

Bakura's eyes darkened as a hail of memories passed over him and he barely held back a snarl as he took a step forwards, scarlet appearing to glow in the in the shadows of his face and flurries of white hair that dripped across his pale skin.

"How about we send you back to the Hell that you crawled out of," was the soft snarl as the pendant s at his neck clinked softly and began to glow in the dim light.

Nothing could have surprised the Tomb Robber more than the resolute and softly spoken reply of, "no."

Bakura's eyes turned upon the form of his host with a menacing spark of warning whispering in their depths, but Ryou's eyes did not move from the strangely hypnotic lavender stare of the now still and watchful Egyptian.

"What do you mean _no?_" was the abrupt snap from behind them that came as a reminder to the Death Eater's presence.

Rabastan seemed decidedly uneasy suddenly, he had drawn the card back out of his pocket and was twisting it between his fingers as he watched them through mahogany eyes, "the kid is cracked."

Ryou turned towards the wizard, his eyes seeming to absorb everything about the Death Eater in his entirety before he spoke, "Malik isn't possessed."

A dark eyebrow raised as if to say, '_I didn't say he was._'

"That _thing _is a part of him, the darkest, most terrible part of his soul that he has denied for so long for fear of what it represents. Through his fear he has given it power, given it an entire persona that is separate to his own. So _no_, we aren't going to banish it."

An odd smile quirked upon the white-haired boys lips as he turned back to the cell.

"_He_ is going to accept it." (**8**)

* * *

"Aibou?"

They were alone, for the time being at least, the Kaiba brothers having disappeared into another section of the house and the teenaged wizards and witches having left them to their own devices.

Yuugi had been silent for some time, turning the Change of Heart card between his fingers, over and over as his thoughts drifted over decidedly darker matters.

"Was he right?"

Amethyst eyes turned to meet their crimson counterparts, lips twitching in a hopeless watery smile and his fingers fell still, the card falling to a rest in his lap.

"Have I been so preoccupied with everything that's going on that I couldn't even tell that one of my friends _needed _me?"

Atemu settled down onto the couch beside the distressed form of his other half, "it's not your fault Aibou, we've been charged with a duty that we cannot forfeit."

Yuugi shook his head furiously, brushing away the tell-tale signs of his distress with the back of his hands impatiently and rounding on the former-Pharaoh as he pleaded his case, "that's no excuse though is it? Otogi-kun is our _friend _and we couldn't even tell that he hasn't been sleeping – did you see how tired he looked?"

Yuugi's hands swiped at his eyes again before once again taking up the card that had fallen into his lap, "whatever happened to him has changed him – how could we not have noticed that?"

"Aibou .."

A watery smile quivered on the King of Games' face and he let out a soft, sad laugh, "he was right you know – that I've been preoccupied, I - I can't stop thinking about all of this, about what Shaadi told us."

The Pharaoh's fingers reached out to gently brush Yuugi's shoulder in a wordless expression of support.

"It - it's like some huge storm that's closing in on me and I can't escape .. It's choking me mou hitori no boku, I can't _breathe, _and I know that I'm going to have to fight again and I just don't know if I can do it."

Understanding dawned in crimson eyes and the former Pharaoh suggested softly, "we'll have to fight _him _again."

Tearful eyes turned upward to meet the questioning stare of the former Pharaoh and another sad laugh escaped his lips, "I don't want it to be him again."

"You don't have to be afraid Aibou," the Pharaoh declared with that bracing confidence that Yuugi had come to count on, "we've faced him before – we can do it again."

"It's not losing that I'm afraid of."

The Pharaoh paused, his eyes carefully assessing the miserable form of his other half as he ran his fingers lightly over the card that was held so gingerly in his finger-tips.

"This isn't just about Otogi is it?" he pushed gently and received a vague haze of that same sad laughter.

"Don't you see mou hitori no boku? All this time Otogi and Bakura and Malik and Mokuba and, _god_, even Kaiba, have been here and I've been wanting nothing more then to have Jou and Honda and Anzu here with me!"

The Pharaoh's lips quirked in an understanding smile and he shook his head at Yuugi's horrified stare, "that doesn't make you a bad person Aibou, it just makes you human."(**9**)

"But it's all my _fault – _don't you see that? I _made _Kaiba take the Rod when he didn't want it – _I_-"

Atemu's stare turned hard and he gripped Yuugi's shoulder firmly, "Yuugi, if what Shaada said is true, then nothing we do could have stopped what is happening. If we have to stop Kaiba, then he won't be the person we know anymore."

"But," Yuugi intervened determinedly, "Malik and Otogi and Bakura, _they_-"

"No Aibou," the Pharaoh declared with the faintest of smiles tugging at his lips, "it is _not _your fault. None of this is _your _fault."

Yuugi turned that miserable yet determined stare upon him and the Pharaoh found himself hard-pressed not to sigh in exasperation.

The King of Games seemed determined to shoulder the blame for something and everything, as always.

"But _Kaiba_," Yuugi whispered, his argument breaking down under Atemu's unrelenting crimson stare.

"This is Kaiba's destiny Aibou, you know that. The time has come for him to face his fate and make of it what he will. We can't change the stars Aibou, even the Gods themselves can't do such a thing."

That same watery smile was brandished upon the former Pharaoh with all the familiar devastation that it brought with it and Atemu's hands brushed absently over and through the crest of haphazard dark hair in a gesture of comfort, fingers grasping hold of one of the soft wisps of blond that hung in his other half's eyes and giving it a gentle, playful tug.

Yuugi's smile strengthened briefly and he sank back into the couch, his eyes turning towards the ceiling as though holding the Gods themselves in direct address to his final question.

"But why does it always have to be him?"(**10**)

* * *

**Footnotes**:  
**one**. Believe me when I say that this conversation has been coming for a _long _time. Otogi quite clearly hasn't dealt with his experience in Azkaban and hopefully his reasons for blaming Yuugi aren't quite so hard to understand. Let's just say it's about bloody time that he boiled over.  
**two**. It amuses me endlessly how many of Kaiba's 'enemies' during the show are ones that he has never even met. How _does _one acquire the ability to create undying hatred in people that have never even met you? Hell – at least he's good at it.  
**three. **I imagine that the Weasley brothers, notoriously over-protective of their little sister, are still rather bitter about the whole Basilisk incident way back when in Chamber of Secrets..  
**four. **Here beginneth the cheesy Giant jokes. Ye be warned.  
**five**. Keep in mind that Rabastan _is _a Slytherin, so what you see isn't precisely what you're going to get.  
**six**. I'm rather fond of a good smiting myself.  
**seven. **It seems to me that with how much any 'real' duelist cares about his or her cards, suggesting that one was careless enough to _lose _one of their cards is like signing your own death warrant.  
**eight**. Don't worry dears, Bakura-kun hasn't gone and lost his marbles _just _yet.  
**nine. **I almost feel sorry for the former-Pharaoh .. _Almost.  
_**ten. **Cause he's Seto _bloody _Kaiba, that's why!

* * *

**AN: **Another shockingly speedy update. What on earth has come over me? Oh right, boredom. That'll do it. Enjoy folks, thanks for all reviews and revel in the glory of two fast updates in a row. It's a miracle!

* * *

"_How one man can wear that much gold brocade and not legally be classed as a madigra float .. I honestly don't know._"


	27. Fairy Tales and Ghost Stories

Book One of Eight;  
**_Chasing the Dragon  
_  
-Chapter Twenty** **Six-  
**Fairy Tales and Ghost Stories

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

"Seto?" 

Mokuba's voice was hesitant, furtive with the prospect of breaking his brother from the contemplative silence he had been stuck within since the younger Kaiba had first entered the room. But, contrary to the whole myriad of reactions that Mokuba had anticipated, he found himself the recipient of a faintly surprised but not unwelcoming blue stare – if you knew how to read it that was.

"What is it?"

The reply bordered on the softer range of Seto's moods and by the small attempt that his brother made at fixing the troubled expression that plagued his face, Mokuba knew that he was being invited to stay.

"Why are we still here?"

The question, no matter how carefully put, had much the reaction that Mokuba had envisioned it would – that embittered twist of frustration that churned upon his brothers face and just _hinted_ at that look that Mokuba feared most upon his elder brother.

Seto must have realized Mokuba's discomfort, for with a small effort the look was gone, replaced by a more natural one. Blue eyes turned upon the younger Kaiba and the smallest twitch of his lips indicated a smile as he replied, "I've been wondering that myself."

At Mokuba's pointed frown the feigned smile dropped away into a grimace and Seto leaned back against the wall, casting a brief glance to his right as the mattress sank downwards and the springs creaked and rocked beneath their new addition.

Watching with vague interest as his younger brother mimicked his own pose and leant back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling, Seto exhaled loudly and drummed his fingers across the mattress.

Mokuba hid a smile and turned slate-blue eyes towards his brother slyly, "what do you think Otogi-kun said to Yuugi?"

Seto let out a soft snort beneath his breath, marveling briefly at how painfully observant his younger sibling could be, before allowing his lips to turn in the briefest flash of a smirk, "nothing he didn't deserve to hear, I imagine."

Mokuba spared a brief reproving stare in his brothers direction before releasing a sigh and replying, "I suppose you're right."

Seto's smirk twitched wider and a sardonic stare fixed upon the younger Kaiba, accompanied by a light shove to the ribs, "aren't I always?"

Mokuba rolled his eyes, shoved his brother lightly back and letting out a snort of amusement, "and people say you don't have a sense of humor."

The elder Kaiba quirked an eyebrow in response, the smirk upon his lips twitching faintly, "proving my theory that most people are invariably stupid."

Mokuba grimaced and began to cast a reproachful glare in his brothers direction before thinking the better of it and redirecting his energy to a different matter.

"Do you think Bakura-kun will find him?"

Seto glanced sideways, his smirk slipping away into a carefully neutral expression before replying, "I don't doubt it. I imagine that finding him will be the least of his problems."

Mokuba flashed a decidedly subdued smile in response and plucked at the worn bedcovers distractedly. As he chewed at his bottom lip, distracted by his own thoughts, Seto watched with a shrewd stare and wondered briefly at the fact that he hadn't seen it coming.

As the words came, accompanied by that far too serious slate-blue stare, Seto recited the familiar phrase within his head, "'Nii-sama, I want you to promise me something."

A wry stare returned to his younger brother at the faux parade that had become the closest thing they _had _to a family tradition – aside from the kidnapping routine that was.

"You know I don't make promises on nothing Mokuba," was the almost bored, routine reply that brought a distracted twitch to his younger brother's poker face.

"Whatever we do, we do it together," was the firm response and slate-blue eyes fixed unbudgingly on his elder brothers, quite clearly stating that it wasn't just a promise, it was a guarantee, no matter _what _Seto said.

A calculative blue stare met the resolute gaze of his younger brother and Seto found himself oddly proud of the determination that Mokuba was displaying.

Seto's lip quirked faintly and he extended a hand to his brother, ignoring the faintly bemused expression he received in response and declaring in one of his more professional tones, "on one condition."

Mokuba paused on reaching out to shake his brothers hand with a narrowed stare.

"If it gets dangerous and I tell you to get out, you do it."

When Mokuba's lips turned in a smile that was eerily similar to the one that Seto himself wore, the elder Kaiba felt a faint twist of foreboding crawl through him.

The younger Kaiba gripped his elder brothers grip and shook it firmly, just as he had been taught.

"Agreed," he declared with that far too pleased expression on his face that made Seto suspect that something wasn't quite right.

There was only the slightest of pauses before the elder Kaiba returned the gesture and his lips quirked back, "agreed."

* * *

With the prospect of food floating in a candy-pink bubble in his mind, Otogi's opinion of Hogwarts began to lift in spite of the castle's best efforts. Three times on the way to the Great Hall had various suits of armor attacked him in some shape or form and he had been liberally abused by several of the many portraits that adorned Hogwarts' walls for no apparent reason. 

Otogi, however, would be damned if he let the castle beat him – not that he'd mention that tothe wizards who accompanied him.

The heart of the matter was that Otogi was never gladder than the moment that they entered the Great Hall to find a smiling Albus Dumbledore beckoning them towards an elaborately set wooden table. It did not escape the Game Creator's notice, however, that Albus Dumbledore seemed the only one of those seated who was pleased to see him.

To the Headmaster's left was a severe-looking woman whose narrowed stare had the hairs on the back of Otogi's neck rising. Next to her was the dwarfing figure of Rubeus Hagrid made to seem even larger by the tiny wizard seated next to him. But, perhaps, the most striking of the lot was a rotund, balding man with a large silver moustache whose unfortunate fondness for velvet made Otogi's sense of fashion cry out in agony.

Hard-pressed to keep his tongue from betraying a few hard truths in order for the man's personal betterment, Otogi forced an unenthusiastic smile onto his face and settled for privately marveling at the stranger's remarkable resemblance to the Monopoly man.

Wincing, as Charlie covertly kicked him as he strode passed, the Game Creator hastened to follow his companions towards the table.

"Come, come, we were beginning to think you had gotten lost in the dungeons."

A decidedly odd smile was affixed to the Headmaster's lips as he spoke those words, his eyes glued to the Game Creator as though he were in on some private joke in which Otogi was the punch line.

The effect was disconcerting to say the least.

Otogi didn't fail to notice that Dumbledore's eyes watched as he took a seat between the two Weasley brothers, and when struck with so blatant a challenge (and the eyes of most of the table) the Game Creator had little choice _but_ to do what his nature dictated and stare obstinately back.

The smile on the elderly wizard's lips grew and he turned to the rest of the group with a sweep of his hands, revealing one to be grotesquely shriveled and blackened.

Something that hadn't been so when he had _last_ met with the Headmaster.

"I believe you are all acquainted with Remus, Bill and Charlie?" was the casual declaration as the Headmaster nodded to each of the wizards as he mentioned them, "and this, of course, is Ryuuji Otogi."

Otogi settled for being mildly impressed that the elderly wizard hadn't murdered the pronunciation of his name while the majority of the table made a point of not looking remotely pleased to have a fugitive of the Ministry of Magic in their midsts.

Although, the balding man at Dumbledore's right had a decidedly different expression.

"Ah yes," a knowing smile had crossed the Headmaster's lips as he surveyed the stare over half-moon glasses, "I would like you all to meet an old colleague and friend of mine, Horace Slughorn. Horace has agreed to come out of retirement this year."

"Curious company it is that you keep Dumbledore," Slughorn declared aloud, his watery grey stare fixed upon Otogi with an air of intense interest, "this is the boy that the Ministry sent to Azkaban .. The one who recently escaped with _seemingly_ no outside help."

There was something terribly shrewd about the stare that Otogi found fixed upon him.

"The _boy_," Otogi declared loudly with a quirk of a dark eyebrow, "that _can _hear you and who _happens _to prefer being called by his name."

Charlie elbowed the Game Creator sharply in the side and Bill hid a smile with great difficulty.

Slughorn's stare failed to retreat, instead his eyes widened marginally and a trace of a smile twitched at the corners of his lips, "so now you seek the contempt of the Ministry of Magic as well as the Dark Lord, Dumbledore?"

"Only on the rarest of occasions Horace," the Headmaster replied glibly, "potatoes?"

Otogi stared blankly at the Headmaster for several moments, wondering briefly if he had finally lost the last of his marbles, before an enticing mixture of aroma's ensnared his nostrils and drew his stare down to the table.

Laid out before him was the most remarkable spread of food that Otogi had ever dared dream of, where before, had been bare platters of shining silver.

It made no sense whatsoever, but at that moment Otogi couldn't have cared less. All _he_ could think about was how jealous Hiroto and Jounouchi would be when he told them about it.

As those around him proceeded to serve themselves, Otogi methodically began to pile food onto his plate in complete ignorance to the odd looks he received from both Weasley brothers.

Once they had settled into a steady rhythm of Otogi practically inhaling every forkful and the rest of the table doing their best to ignore him, the conversation was struck up anew.

"Remus," Slughorn commented aloud, causing the werewolf's eyes to rise towards him in faint surprise, "Remus Lupin?"

At the nod he received, Slughorn's lips tugged in an odd expression as though deep in thought, "I taught you once, friends with Black and Potter weren't you?"

A pained gleam surfaced in Remus' eyes before he nodded again, his smile decidedly forced.

"You were good at dueling I recall, a favourite of Murray's. It was a shame what happened to him."(**1**)

When Remus merely offered that same strained, yet polite smile and nodded in response Slughorn seemed slightly surprised and spoke again, "what is it that you do now, Lupin? It was Murray's belief that you would make a good Auror."

Swallowing loudly and ignoring the curious stares that lingered on him from several directions, Remus glanced at his former Potions professor before replying in a mild yet decidedly evasive tone, "with my condition working for the Ministry was never an option." (**2**)

At the uncomfortable silence that followed Remus' response, Otogi found himself briefly pondering just what the wizard had _meant _by his 'condition.'

"Indeed," Dumbledore murmured aloud, watching as Hagrid surreptitiously hoisted a large shank of lamb from it's platter and slipped it under the table. From the corresponding crackling and soft growls there was no guessing as to who it had been intended for. "So, Mister Otogi, how do you like Hogwarts?"

Otogi got the impression that once again, he was subject to something of a private joke.

"It doesn't seem particularly welcoming," was Otogi's sardonic response, as green eyes turned over the tables occupants and fingers rose to toy with his earring through force of habit.

"Dice-boy's under the impression that Hogwarts doesn't like him very much," Charlie elaborated with an amused look in Otogi's direction and a raise of his eyebrows at the scowl he received.

The decidedly unwelcome nickname reminded Otogi _far _too much of what he had no right to be missing.

"And you doubt it?" was the kindly response from the still smiling Dumbledore as he let out a mild chuckle, "Hogwarts has a reputation for being somewhat hazardous for unwelcome guests – it was woven into the buildings very foundations." (**3**)

Otogi's stare darkened and he sat back from his plate suddenly, the line of his lips a very fair indication that he had found something to take offense at.

"And _you _called me paranoid," was the decidedly frosty sneer in Charlie's direction that drew the faintest of frowns to Dumbledore's face.

"You misunderstand me Mister Otogi," was the placating murmur as blue eyes observed him over half-moon glasses, "at the time when Hogwarts was built, relations between the Gypsy population and Wizarding population were not at their best. Naturally the founders thought it necessary to ensure that their pupils would be suitably protected against any attacks."

Otogi let out a bitter laugh and folded his arms, casting a glance of disdain at his half-eaten lunch, "so even your _buildings _are prejudiced? What a pleasant society it is that you live in."

Remus' lips quirked faintly and he cast a mild look in Otogi's direction that seemed to speak volumes.

"We all have our faults Mister Otogi," the Headmaster murmured with a frown, "Hogwarts is like any other ancient stronghold – it has seen bloodshed and war. But I would like to think that it is a place of peace in these troubled times."

"You might want to try that speech on a few of your paintings," Otogi replied with a quirk of his lips and a mocking green stare, "it seems they might have missed it."

"_Perhaps,_" Bill declared loudly with a brief glance in Otogi's direction and an apologetic smile in Dumbledore's direction, "we should return to our search."

"Yes," Otogi declared sharply, "_let's_."

* * *

Silence greeted the white-haired boy's bold announcement, quickly followed by coarse mocking laughter courtesy of the _ever _supportive King of Thieves. 

"That plan," Bakura sneered with a particular gleam of glee in his scarlet eyes, "is even _worse _than Kaiba's rescue mission for the Pharaoh. All it lacks, Yadonushi, is Ishtar in a ridiculous outfit to tip the scales."

With a long-suffering sigh and a withering look in the Tomb Robber's direction, Ryou did what he had become decidedly accomplished at over time spent with the King of Thieves. He blatantly ignored the sneering Bakura and focused his attention elsewhere.

"We need to get him out," he declared to the air more than anything else.

"_You,_" Ryou's eyes shot in Rabastan's direction with an abruptness that startled the Death Eater, "sir, open up his cell."

Unsure whether he was more surprised by fact that he'd just been given a direct order by a _teenager _or the fact that he, Rabastan Lestrange, had just been called '_sir,_' Rabastan stiffened and narrowed his eyes. "I'd have to say that I agree with the version of you that is _least _likely to be a hallucination on this one. You don't seem to understand that the kid is cracked."

Fingers tugged at the collar of his robes to reveal the darkening finger marks that wrapped around his throat, "- and that was _without _all that weird glowing and souls being trapped inside of bloody _card _games stuff"

Rabastan's eyes darkened and he took another step towards the cell, fingers grazing the handle of his wand as he moved.

"And _you_," Ryou replied with that same soft composure, "seem to be under the impression that there was an _option._"

Eyebrows twitching upward in a show of surprise the Death Eater removed his wand from his pocket, twirling it between his fingers before extending it towards the doorway.

It hadn't gotten halfway towards its destination before it was wrenched abruptly from Rabastan's fingers by a curt snap of, "_expelliarmus_."

Whirling around in the direction of the doorway, Rabastan realized with a hint of panic that both versions of the white-haired boy had disappeared abruptly from sight and that it was only him, the prisoner and the prone body of his unconscious brother that was under the manic stare of Bellatrix Lestrange.

And that, Rabastan knew, was _never _a good thing.

--

"I've been wanting to talk to you."

Set stiffened in place, head turning slowly towards the younger of the Kaiba's as he left the room that he shared with his brother and snapped the door shut behind him. Slate-grey eyes fixed determinedly upon the spirit of the Sennen Rod.

"You lied to him," Set mused aloud, an eyebrow raised faintly.

Mokuba's lip quirked.

"_You _were listening."

Set returned the turn of lips with one of his own. His dark eyes were calculative as they set upon the younger of the Kaiba brothers before at length he replied, "not intentionally."

The younger Kaiba straightened his posture, but received only another quirk of Set's lip in response and settled for staring at him.

"_You _lied to him," Set repeated.

"_He _lied to me," Mokuba replied coolly.

Set's eyebrow raised at the suggestion and Mokuba's lips curved faintly, "even if it's '_not intentional_' it's still a lie."

The Priest cocked his head on a curious angle, his eyes fixing upon the younger Kaiba thoughtfully.

"I want you to know," Mokuba spoke finally, eyes meeting Set's sharply, "that it might not seem like it, but my brother _does _need help sometimes."

Set's lip quirked faintly in recognition and his arms crossed at his chest, fingers drumming lightly across his elbow in an action that Mokuba recognized as characteristic of his brother.

It seemed that the pair _were _rubbing off on each other.

"_And_," Mokuba added, taking a deep breath and fixing his stare upon the Priest, "that I'm watching you, if anything happens to him I won't forget it."

Set raised an eyebrow, "are you asking me to protect him?"

The younger brother's eyes narrowed faintly, his fingers distractedly brushing dark hair away from his face and he let out a faint sigh, "yes."

The spirit moved forwards to pause as he passed the younger Kaiba brother, one hand lightly patting Mokuba's shoulder and his lips turning in an amused smile.

"Your wish is my command."

* * *

The return to the dungeons came as something of a relief to Otogi, whose initial excitement at the prospect of a feast had been zapped at coming face to face with another blinding reminder of the Wizarding world's less than friendly disposition towards him. Thus, the gloomy surroundings brought with them a surprising amount of relief .. Something that didn't go unnoticed by the Weasley brothers. 

Lupin, at least, seemed to have replenished his enthusiasm for the task at hand, and as they followed the winding steps down into the dungeons he resumed his efforts in teaching Otogi his heritage, and in doing so, attempted to goad the Game Creator out of his decidedly bad mood.

"Your Great-Grandmother was a Seer, wasn't she?" Remus asked, glancing briefly over his shoulder and catching sight of the Weasley brothers as they bickered quietly behind Otogi's back.

"Yes," the Game Creator grumbled back, grimacing as an irritable Kleidon let out a menacing growl somewhere behind him.

"Of some renown I believe," Lupin prompted carefully, pointedly ignoring the sounds of Charlie cooing apologetically at the baby dragon and the corresponding growls that came of it.

"I suppose," Otogi replied, quickening his step as the growling grew louder.

"Your clan is one of the few that are still well known in Wizarding society," Remus continued, carefully dodging a trick step and smiling as Otogi followed his lead with a shrewd stare, "I think, that that is perhaps why the Ministry of Magic were not so kind in your sentencing."

Otogi let out a faint scoff and tugged at his earring irritably, "and here was _I _thinking that they didn't like my shoes."

"You see," Lupin continued with a suppressed smile and a shake of his head, "when the Gypsy Wars came to a head all those years ago, the Wizards enforced a series of brutal laws to ensure that there would never be another uprising. Entire clans were exiled from Britain and parts of Europe, others fled rather than face the alternative of execution. By the end of it all, well over half of the Gypsy population had been wiped out and the clans that remained were scattered across the known world."

Otogi's lips curled downwards in a sneer and he crossed his arms as they reached the foot of the last staircase, "you know Lupin, you _really _aren't helping your cause. Now your people hate me because _they _orchestrated a genocide that wiped out over _half _of my peoples population?"

"No," Bill interjected as he stopped just behind the Game Creator, "they _fear _you because they know that you have every right to want revenge."

"Precisely," Remus replied, his smile fading slightly as he continued towards the first dungeon in their path.

"Under exile the Gypsy clans spread throughout Europe and later Asia. The prejudice towards their people by this time was so great however, that a stable home was impossible. They were now labeled as thieves and murderers and were often run out of towns or attacked. They became nomadic through necessity and over time became what they are best known for today."

Otogi's eyes darkened as he brushed passed the wizard and progressed into the nearest classroom, his bitter mutter of, "a traveling _freak _show," reaching Lupin's ears and causing the wizard to pause in his advance.

Remus glanced over the room with a perturbed stare, before moving forwards to lean against the teachers desk and continuing his story determinedly, "there were, however, several clans that retained the old ways in spite of the life they led. _Yours _was one of them."

Otogi's eyes narrowed sharply, "I never told you what clan I belonged to."

Lupin offered a mild smile of response, one finger lightly tracing a line out from the bottom of his right eyelid towards his cheekbone in a mirror image of Otogi's own tattoo.

"You didn't have to."

Lupin's head shot up as a flurry of banging and crashing sounded in one of the neighboring classrooms and, glad of the distraction, he stood up straight and moved hurriedly towards the door with only a brief glance in the faintly frowning Otogi's direction as he followed.

The group pressed forwards with the thrill of their first real sign of activity overcoming the odd silence that had fallen between them and Otogi was faintly surprised to find that the excitement of their ghost hunt had rubbed off on him to such a degree.

Within moments of skidding into one of the dungeon converted classrooms, they found a site of complete devastation. Textbooks and cauldrons and chalk were mixed with potions ingredients in chaotic disarray across the floors and desks.

But that, it seemed, wasn't all that had been left behind.

"Hey," was the bemused exclamation from Bill as he waded through the wreckage towards the huge blackboard that stood at the front of the room, "what's _this?_"

Scrawled in white chalk across the black surface was a message that brought an odd half-smile to Remus Lupin's lips.

'_Mr. Padfoot bids his esteemed friends welcome._'

Bill paused in front of it, raising a finger to brush the chalk before turning back towards them with a raised eyebrow, "_Padfoot?_" he mused aloud.

"It seems," Lupin murmured aloud as his smile grew and he drew his wand from a pocket, "that we've been set a challenge."

"Challenge?" Charlie repeated dubiously, grimacing as Kleidon's tail slapped the back of his neck.

"Yes," Remus replied as the renewed sound of crashing echoed through the doorway, "it's time to play."

* * *

"Well, well Rabastan, I see that you've started talking to yourself again." 

Her lips formed that familiar curve, her fingers absently twirling _his _wand in a bored fashion.

Rabastan knew that everything about her had been specifically designed to infuriate him and that only served to irritate him more.

"_But,_ it seems, not to other people. Though I would _dearly _love to know what you were up to as, I imagine, would our Lord. It looked _very _much to me like you were about to release our favourite guest."

Rabastan's eyes darted towards the Egyptian, discerning the flicker of rebellious normality that sparked within the boy's sole eye, he figured that the saner of the pair was in control for the time being.

"Well Rabastan? Where's your _witty _come-back? If you're going to ignore my existence at least have the decency to do a good job of it."

Forcing his eyes to meet her gaze, Rabastan straightened his posture and turned his lips in a would-be charming dark smile, his fingers sweeping through near-black hair to remove it from his eye line and acid forming upon his tongue as he spoke, "I was waiting, dear sister-in-law, for something worthy of answering. Your tired insults and boring threats fail to do it for me .. I really can't see what my brother _ever _saw in you, but then again, I always suspected that he was never playing with quite a full deck."

Her eyes darkened, her expression souring as she took a step further into the room, "it always killed you didn't it Rabastan? That he chose _me_ over his own brother. That no matter how hard you tried to keep me away from him it never, ever _worked._"

His lips curled in a reflexive, derisive sneer that smoothed with scorn what had been an all too stinging truth. Rabastan's tongue darted out to moisten dry lips, his facade of charm and disdain falling away as his eyes flickered towards his wand in the hands of his worst enemy.

All too aware of his thoughts, Bellatrix's lips curled in a wicked dark smile and she dropped the wand at her feet with careless abandon. Her eyes boring into his as she lifted one booted heel to grind down upon it with an audible '_crack!_'

"It _kills_ you," she all but purred, eyes alight at the flinch he relinquished, "that your brother never saw you as more than a burden that he was cursed to bear from the miserable day that you were _born._"

Anger raged in his eyes and his lips turned in an ugly sneer of open pleasure as he caught a flash of white from behind her, "what _really _kills me is that my brother never got the chance to see you for the pathetic groveling bitch that you are. I'll see you in Hell, _Bella._"

Brief confusion touched her face as she caught sight of the slumped figure that lay, unmoving, at Rabastan's feet before her eyes widened with recognition.

"_You_," she hissed as her own wand rose in a jagged motion with an additional snarl of, "_sectumsempra!_"

A spray of vivid crimson played through her vision and Rabastan stumbled backwards, clutching at his cheek in a dazed state.

As her wand rose again, Rabastan caught another glimpse of white from behind her and focused on it with numb confusion as warm blood gushed down his face and spattered across the stone floor.

Her lips formed the words that she never put voice to, stopped in her tracks by the low, menacing voice that murmured a soft, "tell your _Lord_, that he would be wise to drop everything and anything that has to do with that Stone Tablet."

Rabastan caught sight of the sheen of metal that rested so delicately against Bellatrix's pale throat with no little confusion, his hand rising gingerly to inspect the damage that her curse had done and hissing with pain.

"Oh," Rabastan caught a flash of an oddly unthreatening smile over Bellatrix's shoulder before the same menacing tone continued, "and next time we meet, you _won't _be so lucky."

There was a flash of metal and Bellatrix crumpled forwards, revealing a half-smiling Ryou Bakura standing behind her, eyeing the hilt of a wicked-looking dagger thoughtfully.

"Remind me not to throw this away again," the white-haired boy declared to seemingly thin air.

Rabastan followed the boys stare and watched as the harsher, more threatening of the pair melted out of the shadows, staring at the embodied form of his host with a touch of interest masked with disdain.

"If you _ever _attempt to impersonate me again Yadonushi," was the threatening snarl that brought an odd smile to the white-haired boys lips, "you won't _live _to tell the tale."

"I'll take that as a compliment," was the soft reply as the dagger was carefully stashed back where it had come from and the boys brown eyes turned upon the still bleeding and stunned Rabastan.

Ryou stooped over the slumped witch and carefully pried her wand from her slackened grip, raising it he tossed it in Rabastan's direction and added a decidedly less cheerful, "open the cell."

Rabastan caught the wand with faint surprise, his fingers sticky with blood as he moved towards the cell and carefully tapped the third bar. With a cling and clatter they opened out and the Death Eater stepped backwards, his eyes now turning cautiously upon the menacingly hovering spirit and his host and puzzling over the role reversal.

"Anyone would think you've never been part of a rescue mission before," was the sardonic growl as Malik staggered outwards on stiff legs and slung an arm around the Death Eater's shoulders, fully intent on using him as a crutch.

Eyebrows raising and not entirely adjusted Rabastan replied with a brave attempt at his usual tone, "you may not have noticed but we don't _do _a tremendous amount of rescuing in my line of work, we're usually the ones that people need saving _from._ Comes with the whole, '_I'm-an-evil-dictator's-minion'_ package." (**4**)

Ryou waved them forwards with a faint twitch of his lips and curious gleam entering his brown eyes as Malik retorted loudly, "you're not _much _of a minion."

The Egyptian grimaced and attempted to avoid the spatter of wet blood, as they moved towards the doorway before adding thoughtfully, "if you were _my _minion I would have had you killed long ago."

"It's a good thing that I'm not your minion then," Rabastan grunted back as the scowling spirit cast a dark look in their direction.

"You're _nobody's_ minion now," Ryou mused aloud as he lead them down the darkened corridor, "I imagine that your '_Dark Lord_' wouldn't be too fond of a minion that assists in his prisoners daring escapes."

"Imagine that," was the glib reply as the Death Eater stashed Bellatrix's wand into his pocket and attempted not to trip over the Egyptian's feet, "I suppose the question of the moment is are you going to use me and lose me for my superb knowledge of the wizarding world that is a decade or so out-dated, _or_, are you going to steal my soul and leave me a devastatingly good-looking corpse once we get out of here?"

"Neither," Ryou replied good-humoredly over his shoulder as he checked around a corner before continuing on his way.

"Your corpse would hardly be good-looking," Malik added with a hidden smile.

"We have a better use for you," Ryou added, interrupting the beginning of Rabastan's protest.

The Death Eater grimaced and reached up to press a hand to the stinging wound that stretched from his forehead to half-way down his cheek, and turned an irritable mahogany stare on the white-haired boy's back, "that's hardly a comforting sentiment."

Rabastan winced as his shoulder jarred and Malik tripped over something on the floor.

"Shouldn't there be some sort of fancy guard showing up to prevent our escape?" the Egyptian grumbled, as he hopped on a stubbed toe.

Ryou wore a curiously amused expression that was mirrored by the decidedly pleased one upon the spirit of the Sennen Ring's face.

"Somehow," Rabastan grunted as he stumbled over another object on the floor, "I don't think that's going to be as big of a problem as it should be."

"Where _do _you find a good minion these days? Even _mine _were better than your lot," the Egyptian let out another curse as he tripped over another object on the floor and added sharply, "at least _they _cleaned up after themselves .."

Rabastan grimaced and shrugged, "minionship was never my style – I suppose that's why the other children never wanted to play with me."

"I'm your captor," Malik retorted sharply, ignoring the faint sound of chuckling from Ryou's direction, "_not _your psychologist."

Another curse sounded as the Egyptian tripped over another of the objects upon the floor and stopped to look down at it with a visible sheen of distaste before booting it down the corridor with a resounding clatter.

"-And _where _the hell did all these dolls come from?"

* * *

The next message was much like the first and those that had followed it. 

Otogi was growing increasingly convinced that the cryptic messages entailed by their AWOL spirit were entirely for Lupin's benefit.

"He's toying with us," Charlie grunted as he he glared at the scrawled message upon it's black background with just a touch of indignance.

'_Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that Mr. Moony and his friends have not yet given up their futile chase and only hopes they don't do themselves an injury._'

Otogi leaned back against the nearest stone bench to catch his breath and eyed the message with a shrewd stare, ignoring that same odd smile that continued to linger on Remus Lupin's face as it had done since they had received the _first _message.

Shoving aside a stray textbook the Game Creator leapt up to sit on the bench top, his lips curving in a smirk and his hands brushing stray strands of dark hair distractedly from his face. Green eyes glittered with a touch of something as he scoffed aloud, "he thinks he can out-play Otogi _Ryuuji_?"

Bill turned from where he had been leaning to land a questioning stare on the Game Creator.

"_Hey_," Otogi growled, "I might not be the reigning King of Games or Seto _bloody_ Kaiba but I can still beat the pants off of nearly anyone else whose stupid enough to challenge me."

Otogi's smirk returned as Charlie and Lupin turned to watch him as well and he puffed out his chest in a show of bravado, "if he wants a challenge – I'll give him one."

The wizards watched on in a bemused fashion as Otogi seemed to draw a pair of dice from thin air and rolled them idly through his fingers with a skill that was bizarrely complicated and made to look _far _too easy.

"Snake eyes," Otogi declared loudly to the air around them, "says that _I _win and you show yourself, Mr. Padfoot."

He held the pair of dice in a salute to the air, green eyes glittering with amusement as the crashing next door continued, and Otogi shook the dice lazily between his fingers. Ignoring dutifully the bewildered stares that remained upon him.

With a nonchalance that oozed confidence the dice were released to tumble across the bench top, watched with baited breath by the thoroughly enthralled wizards and a sidelong stare from Otogi.

All three Wizards moved closer to get a better look as they rolled to stop and Otogi called out in a bored tone, not even conceding to look, "you can come out now."

"Snake eyes," Charlie murmured aloud, his tone suitably impressed as he eyed the half-smirking Game Creator.

Bill was far more skeptical. (**5**)

The elder Weasley's questioning was never carried through however, due to the apparition that suddenly let out a soft tsk of disappointment and slid off of the top of the storage cabinet he had been perched upon.

Lips curled back in a wicked grin the spirit of Sirius Black stretched out his transparent limbs with an air of boredom and brandished his hands before him in a placating manner that was entirely undermined by the mischievous gleam in his grey eyes.

"You beat me," Sirius declared, ignoring the crashing that continued in the background, "I have to say I'm surprised that your heart didn't give out, old-timer."

Lupin's eyebrows shot upwards, yet he good-naturedly ignored the jibe in favor of asking, "if you were in here, than who was in the other dungeon?"

Sirius let out an echoing laugh and shrugged easily, his manner cheerful and unburdened, "I employed Peeves into my service, he was more than happy to cause a little mayhem on my behalf-"

"- _while _you watched us run around like idiots I suppose?" Otogi suggested sharply, green eyes fixed on the spirit with a frown.

Sirius' grin, if possible, widened even further and he took another few steps towards the Game Creator, "to be fair Moony didn't look _half _as idiotic as you lot."

Otogi's stare narrowed and he cocked an eyebrow, lips a thin and determined line as he scooped his dice back into hand and began to toss them into the air and catch them.

"And the messages?" Lupin asked, hiding a smile that was persistently tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"My handiwork of course Moony, Peeve may have a touch for the mayhem but beyond dirty words and cutesy rhymes he can hardly string a decent sentence together. Not that '_loony, loopy, Lupin_' doesn't have it's charms."

There was something, Remus noticed as Sirius talked, that was young and so inappropriately _alive _about this Sirius. He reminded him more of the Sirius that he had spent his school years with, before the weight of war, betrayal and death had hung over him.

"I should have known you'd employ the resident Poltergeist into your services Black," Remus declared in a light tone, "you never _were _very good at carrying out your own plans."

The spirit let out a scoff of laughter, "you have _got _to be -"

"- _I _seem to recall," Remus interrupted with a wolfish smile, "that the only reason you didn't spend _all _of your free time in Detention was because of _my _quick-thinking."

Sirius donned another roguish grin before tacking on, "_and _my charm."

"Hate to break up the high school reunion," Otogi drawled with out the smallest trace of apology in his tone, "but in case you hadn't noticed, this castle seems to have saved up several generations worth of hatred towards my kindred and is directing it all at _me._ In light of this information you _may _think about relocating before, say, I get crushed by a stray crystal chandelier?"

The wizards in residence turned towards the unsmiling Game Creator with varying degrees of interest and the spirit wandered down the aisle towards the group to reach the bench that Otogi was currently perched upon.

"So _you're _the one that my pesky soul had decided to take up residence in? Not a bad choice, but then again, I always _did _have good taste."

Lupin let out a snort and leveled a mild stare upon his childhood friend, "you had _atrocious _taste Padfoot, mine and James' acquaintances accepted."

"Minor details, Lupin. My tastes _did _improve with time."

Pointedly ignoring the undercurrents of hidden meanings that lingered beneath the surface of the pairs conversation, Otogi threw the pair of dice back into the air, catching them again and taking care to ensure that at least _one _person was watching as he made them 'vanish' back to where they had come from.

"Lets get a few things straight Black," Otogi declared sharply as he pushed himself off of the desk to stand at his full height and locked gazes with the spirit, "_one_, any damages to my person and _or _reputation as a result of your temporary tenancy _will _be recompensed."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and hid a smile as Otogi's eyebrow twitched threateningly, "_two,_ there will be _no _spontaneous possessions of _my _body."

The spirit took an unintentional step back as Otogi took one forwards, one finger rising to jab threateningly in Sirius' general direction, "_three_, there will be no _weird _mind-reading and or controlling tricks."

An odd smile snuck across Otogi's lips as the spirit eyed him warily, "and _four_, did you happen to find anything a little stronger than _tea _around here?"

Lupin shot a sharp look in the Game Creator's direction and opened his mouth to protest as Sirius began to laugh and Bill exchanged an amused look with Charlie.

"Never mind," the Game Creator muttered as he moved aside, following the aisle towards the staircase without a second look over his shoulder, "I'll have a look for myself."

"Don't you think you're a bit young for that Dice-boy?" Charlie drawled aloud as he moved after him down the aisle.

"_Please_," Otogi sneered with distaste and a half-amused glance of his shoulder, "I've been thrown into prison, discriminated against by a _building _not to mention your bloody government, possessed and stuck inside a ridiculously creepy house with Kaiba, Yuugi and _you _lot. If anyone deserves a drink, it's me."

Charlie rolled his eyes, muttered something beneath his breath, and followed as Otogi pushed his way into Snape's office. He watched as the Game Creator moved towards the desk and began to open drawers at random.

"I wouldn't do that," was the delicately placed warning from Bill as he entered the doorway after his brother.

"I don't see why not," Otogi grumbled as he moved away from the desk and began to tug at the door of one of the cabinets with a frown.

Only a brief few seconds later Otogi _did _see why not.

Lying in a dazed heap on the floor with two bemused red-haired Wizards staring down at him he began to laugh deliriously and reached up a hand to touch the back of his now decidedly tender head.

"_What,_" he wheezed up at the pair between his laughter, "did I ever do to deserve _this?_"

* * *

Seto had known for a long time that this conversation was inevitable. 

He had seen it in Atemu's eyes on the night of the ambush. He could see it _now _in the troubled stare that Yuugi had leveled upon him. That earnest plea that the King of Games didn't have the heart to put words to, because Yuugi could neverbe anything _but _earnest.

Oh yes, Seto had known then just as he knew now that this situation was an unavoidable one – though such knowledge failed to make the discussion any easier.

"You wanted to talk Mutou," he spoke briskly, callous as ever, "so talk."

The plea in Yuugi's eyes failed to vanish and he paused, chewing his lower lip and brushing at the folds of fabric around his knees.

"It's because of you, isn't it?"

Seto marveled that Yuugi had actually gotten the sentence over his tongue, for his eyes immediately turned downwards and his cheeks turned pink, burning under the inability to return Seto's frank stare.

"All of this I mean .."

Face wrapped up in a callous mask, Seto failed to drop his stare, he instead allowed his lip to curl in a familiar, safe sneer and turned his chin upwards, "do you always look to shirk your responsibilities Mutou, or is this just a special occasion?"

Yuugi stiffened and shot of crimson flashed in his eyes.

"You're keeping secrets Kaiba," Atemu replied, relieving Yuugi of the situation without hesitation.

"As are you," Seto retorted, leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow boredly.

The Pharaoh paused, elbows braced against his knees and ruefully massaging fingers through his thick crest of hair, "we need to work together Kaiba, surely you can see that? Who knows what they're planning for us next?"

"Aside from imprisonment, death and public disgrace you mean?"

Atemu's eyes narrowed.

"You _know _what I mean, Kaiba."

Seto's fingers toyed distractedly with his sleeves, his eyes fixed upon the Pharaoh, "they will _never _stop hunting us _Pharaoh_, don't you understand that? As long as they're under the constant threat of war, they will _never _stop, because they need someone to pin the guilt on. _We're _their decoy."

Atemu's eyes flashed and he sat up straight, "if that's _all _we are Kaiba, then why the effort? Why place us under surveillance for _years?_ Why follow our friends? _Why _go to such an extent in investigating this prophecy?"

The elder Kaiba stiffened and his fingers fell still, his eyes darkening and half-obscured by strands of chestnut hair as he sneered back, "perhaps they just wanted an opportunity to meet the renowned King of Games?"

"_Kaiba._"

Seto's lips quirked and he turned his head away, "you might not have noticed _Yuugi_, but I was the one who risked everything to save _you._"

At the look of complete and utter frustration that the Pharaoh shot in his direction and the rise of irritation that twitched within his mind, Seto's stare darkened and he let out a sneer of distaste.

"What do you want to know _Pharaoh?_"

Atemu seemed somewhat stunned by what seemed like a concession on his rivals part, but when Kaiba barreled on he realized that it wasn't quite time to be planning a victory party.

"Do you want to know _why_ we've been under surveillance for who knows how long? Or maybe why or _how_ they connected us to some two-bit prophecy from Dice-Boy's senile Great-Great Grandmother?"

As Atemu stared it him, nothing short of stunned, he continued on, his volume rising subconsciously into what Mokuba had once classed as his 'I'm angry enough to kill and smart enough to get away with it'voice.

"- _Or_ better yet, why, of_ all _the people in the worldsome egocentric Hitler-wannabe decided that _Ishtar _was the guy with the answers to all of his problems?"

One eyebrow hovered over sharp blue eyes which focused firmly upon the determined crimson stare that was fixed upon them.

"Or perhaps," the Pharaoh replied in a softer tone, "I want to know _why _you continue to ignore your destiny when it has been made so clear to you?"

Seto's lips turned in a brief flash of an all too familiar smirk, before he turned his head away and stood, smoothing out the material across his thighs and replying as he moved towards the doorway, "because, _Yuugi_, even if you had all the evidence in the world, I will _never _believe that my life is ruled by anyone other than _me._"

"-_Kaiba_."

The elder Kaiba brother didn't stop in his motions, his hand twisting the door handle sharply and not even bothering to glance over his shoulder as he addressed the former Pharaoh, "I might not know the answer to those questions Yuugi, but I _will _find out."

As he swung the door open, Seto paused upon finding a collection of suddenly highly embarrassed teenagers standing in the doorway and heard Atemu call out once again.

"_Kaiba_, I wanted to-"

Seto grimaced visibly and pushed his way through the awkwardly staring wizards and witches with one last snarl of, "find yourself another sidekick Mutou," over his shoulder.

Left in Seto Kaiba's wake, Harry was certain that he was the only one of the group to hear the words, '_thank you_' pass the former Pharaoh's lips.

* * *

"Do you really think he's dangerous, Harry?" 

Hermione's tone was skeptical and from the slight purse of her lips and that very particular twitch of her eyebrows, Harry knew that it would take his very best of persuading to convince her.

Ron, on the other hand ..

"-Of _course _he is Hermione, are you completely deaf? You've heard what happened that night at the ambush, in Diagon Alley – and _oh _let's not forget when he summoned a _ruddy great dragon out of bloody nowhere!_"

As the red-head spoke he ticked off each of his examples on his fingers before sweeping his arms out at his conclusion and accidentally slapping the back of Harry's head. The boy who lived grimaced and rose a hand to rub the spot with a scowl.

"_But_," Hermione intervened with a faint scowl cast in Ron's direction, "_all _of those times he was fighting on_ our _side. That makes him a useful ally – _not _someone to be scared of."

"That's the thing," Harry replied as he shifted forwards to fix his stare upon Hermione, "I'm not sure that he _was _fighting for us."

The bushy-haired witch eyed her friend sharply and Harry rose a hand to put off her response before he continued.

"Think about it Hermione, he's never _said _that he is out to defeat Voldemort, has he?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head, "that doesn't make him our mortal enemy Harry!"

"I'm not saying it does," Harry contested with a frown as he removed his glasses and began to clean them upon his shirt, "but it also means that we don't really know if he _is _on our side."

Ron nodded his head emphatically and interjected hotly, "he's smart Hermione, you saw him play Chess, he was always ten steps ahead of everyone else."

The witch grimaced and shook her head, "so now he's evil because he's good at _chess? _What does that make _you_ Ron?"

The youngest Weasley brother scowled and flushed pink, "I didn't say _that. _I said that he's smart, maybe it was in his best interests to get Dumbledore on side – and those weird gold items they have. Nobody knows what kind of magic they actually _use._"

"So all smart people are evil?" Hermione declared coldly, causing Ron to grimace and turn towards Harry in an appeal for help.

"We're not saying that he's _evil_, Hermione, we're saying that we shouldn't trust him. Otogi himself said that Kaiba doesn't do anything without an agenda, maybe we should be watching him. I don't think that this is all just a coincidence."

The witch turned an exasperated stare between her two best friends before shaking her head and letting out a long-suffering sigh. "Harry, if Kaiba was dangerous Dumbledore would've let the Ministry take him."

Harry's eyes darkened as he set his glasses back upon his face and he turned a serious stare upon the witch, "Kaiba _knows _something Hermione, I'm sure that was what Dumbledore was trying to tell me when we had that meeting. He knows something about the prophecy that I don't and I'm going to find out _what._"

"We watch him then," Ron declared firmly and Harry nodded in approval.

"Yeah, we watch him."

* * *

"This isn't one of your games omote." 

Seto paused, eyes turning upwards from their occupation upon wires and circuits to train upon the standing silhouette that leaned against the windowsill. His fingers, until now delicately occupied with task at hand, loosened upon their grip of wires and extracted from the circuit board to wipe grime away with no little distaste.

"I never implied it was," was the cool assessment, blue eyes squinting against the late afternoon glare.

"And yet," Set countered, shifting just enough so that Seto could make out the odd look upon his face, "you continue to play it as if it were one."

Seto shifted the skeleton of the prototype duel disk upon his knees and bent over it once again, fingers following the intricate system to what he hoped was the final flaw in his design. He took a deliberate pause before he replied, his tone carefully neutral and giving all the indications that he was not in the least bit interested, "is there something that you are trying to say, Set?"

The priest donned an odd smile that his reincarnation didn't catch, his fingers drumming across the dusty window sill as he replied, "my Cousin is not the most tactful of people omote, but it seems to me that you are determined not to let him help where he might be useful."

His entire demeanor seeming to go cold, Seto displayed a razor thin smile towards the circuit board and lifted his head to stare through obtrusive strands of chestnut hair at the spirit. He merely watched for a moment before his eyes turned back to his safety net of wires and circuits and he let out a soft scoff of, "I don't need his help."

"So you keep on saying," Set replied, turning his back upon his reincarnation to stare out at the drab city skyline, "nor do you _want _it, I imagine. But I know you omote, you are resourceful – and resourceful people do _not_ shuntheir resources."

"I don't _do _teamwork," Seto replied glibly, his fingers irritably brushing away strands of hair that fell immediately back into their previous position.

"No," Set replied with a faint shake of his head and the echo of a laugh, "you _really _don't."

For a moment Seto continued to peer into the maze of wires for a fault that he knew was there, his mind turning slowly over what had been said without any appearance of it doing so. So convincing was his pretense that he startled the Priest when he spoke abruptly, his eyes still intent upon the task at hand, "I've seen them."

Set turned sharply, dark eyes filling with curiosity as Seto caught a wire between his fingers with a flicker of triumph sparking in his blue eyes.

"Seen them _what_, omote?"

As slender fingers wove through the mess of wiring following a designated path with determination Seto spoke again, his mouth twisted in an expression that didn't quite match the triumph within his eyes, "I've watched them all get sucked in, one by one, and stuck in his little world. Watched them become weak and helpless and always waiting for _him _to come and save the day."

Seto's lips quirked in an odd fashion as his eyes briefly flickered away from their close observation of his task to acknowledge the Priest's curious stare, "I'm not exactly the damsel in distress _type._"

A dark bitter laugh escaped his lips as blue eyes returned to their task and Set took a hesitant step in Seto's direction, the beginning of understanding snapping in as another piece of the puzzle was pushed into place.

"So you see Set," the elder Kaiba murmured as his fingers reached the base of the wire and drew it carefully upwards to inspect the ends, "I'm not going to sit and wait around for your mighty _Pharaoh _to take it into his head to _do _something about our situation. '_A novel needs a hero_,' and if no-one else is planning to step up and stop _talking _about it, then an anti-hero is what they'll get."

With a flourish and the soft snap of the wiring being pushed back into place, blue eyes rose to meet their darker counterparts and lips twisted in a familiar dark smirk. The cover was snapped back into place and the contraption flipped so that they could watch as the deck lit up and the counter rolled back to zero.

"It's finished."

'Or,' the Spirit mused silently with a solemn stare, 'it very soon _will _be.'

Set's eyes lifted slowly towards his reincarnation as he set the prototype onto the mattress at his side and stood. Blue eyes were fixed downwards, their attention caught by something that caused the smirk upon his lips to grow.

With a sudden motion his reincarnation was back upon his feet, stooping to catch hold of the paperback that had caught his attention, Seto's expression turned ironic as he turned and tossed it towards the Priest.

"I guess the old mans plan worked after all."

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**one. **Those of you who were (un)fortunate enough to read the monster of a fiction that was, _Playing with the Boys_, might remember a certain Professor who went by the name of Murray Moore. I couldn't help myself.  
t**wo. **And with delightful people like Umbridge there, I doubt that any werewolf would _want _to work there.  
**three. **Thus, _why _Otogi has been having such a hard time getting through the castle. With all the references throughout the books of how protected Hogwarts is, I wouldn't put it passed the founders to have put specific protection up against their known enemies. Especially since we _all_ know how 'tolerant' the Wizarding community is.  
f**our. **Minion is such a lovely word, I wonder how many times I can use it in _one _chapter?  
f**ive. **I've found that writing Charlie and Bill is an interesting exercise, simply trying to discern how they would react to certain situations is something that is difficult due to the lack of information we are given on them. On my part, I believe Charlie is the more 'romantic' of the pair, thus making it more likely that he would _believe _that Otogi really _is _just that lucky, while Bill is far more likely to question it.

**

* * *

AN:** It's been a long wait since my last update so I _do _apologize. This chapter has been particularly difficult simply because I have to get all the time-lines up to date and there seemed to be a lot of _talking_, which was necessary but decidedly difficult to make interesting! Plus, the infamous Forum is finally up and running. It can be found either through my profile page or the YGO forums section where it is, astoundingly, named, 'Chasing the Dragon.' Lastly, anyone with a theory behind the title of this chapter?

* * *

_"Turn it up loud, captain!"_


	28. Long Way Down

**Book One of Eight;**

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Twenty** **Seven-  
**Long Way Down.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

By the time that the front door flew violently open to admit a loudly ranting Otogi Ryuuji and his entourage of decidedly amused (but trying not to show it) wizards, Molly Weasley had worked herself into hysterics.

Seto was sure that he never had been (and never again would be) so glad to see the Game Creator.

With a great, tearful sob Molly swept forwards to envelope the nearest Weasley she could find and admonish him loudly for worrying her so.

The dramatics of the Weasley matron were unfairly matched, however, for no one knew how to give a grand performance like Otogi Ryuuji and tonight he was giving it everything.

"How much do you think they'd charge for an exorcism these days?" Otogi declared loudly upon storming his way into the kitchen, a pointed green stare rolling with distaste over his transparent and would-be charming pursuer whose expression of sorrow was entirely marred by the twitching at the corner of his lips.

"C'mon kid," the Spirit replied upon receiving the green stare and finding it far too serious for his liking, a flash of panic ignited in Sirius Black's grey eyes and he turned on his most charming smile, "You aren't _seriously.-_"

Otogi's eyes scanned the mostly stunned spectators seated within the kitchen and his eyes landed upon the nonchalant, coffee-drinking elder Kaiba and latched on determinedly.

"_Kaiba_," the Game Creator declared loudly and sharply, sweeping passed the barricade that the Spirit was making to move in the elder Kaiba's direction.

Seto grimaced visibly and reached for his coffee mug.

"What would it be listed under do you think? '_E_' for Exorcism, or '_P_' for Priests?"

In the manner of most of the stares that Otogi Ryuuji often received from Seto Kaiba this one was cold and indicated a decided lack of caring, a nonchalance that was cemented when the elder Kaiba he took another slow, pointed sip of his coffee. The one and only change in expression came when a haze of pale colors abruptly obscured his view of those demanding green eyes and he was instead presented with a transparent view of Sirius Black's backside.

"C'mon kiddo," Sirius declared with a winning smile, unaware of the rather poisonous blue stare that now rested determinedly upwards and upon the back of his head, "Can't you take a little joke?"

Otogi's eyes gleamed as he turned on his heel to watch Yuugi and Mokuba trail in the doorway after the hoard of Weasley brothers and a still decidedly hysterical Molly Weasley, when Lupin finally swept through, last in line, Otogi pinned him with a sharp green stare and declared loudly, "Do you think they'd give me a discount on the Exorcism as, technically, he isn't a _complete _soul?"

Lupin's lips curved as Sirius wheeled upon him with a warning glare and the werewolf mused back, with a feigned thoughtful expression and a twinge of good humor lighting up his eyes, "It bears consideration, doesn't it?"

"_Moony_," Sirius growled warningly and was met with an unapologetic waggle of his childhood friend's eyebrows.

Otogi turned upon the Spirit with a now devilish smirk replacing his previously sour expression and green eyes sparking. "To Hell with the Priest, I'm sure that if I asked _nicely _Yuugi would be willing to help out, _or, _if you'd prefer to leave the friends and family something to remember you by, I'm sure Bakura-kun would oblige .."

The Spirit paled and opened his mouth to protest as Otogi loudly continued.

".. He has a _knack _with dolls. Bakura-kun has a whole collection of them out in his,-" catching sight of Yuugi's decidedly curious expression and the repercussions that could come of it, the Game Creator coughed loudly and let out a laugh. "Perhaps _now _is not the best time to discuss it."

"_No_," Sirius finally interjected loudly, taking the brief second that Otogi's tirade paused by storm and the legendary Black tenacity, "This is _my _house! You can't exorcise me from my own _house!_"

"Really?"

Sirius' eyes turned to Bill who was failing miserably in hiding a teasing smile behind one hand as he extracted himself from his mother's grip and declared, his brown eyes sparkling , "I thought you hated this house?"

Sirius' wheeled upon the eldest Weasley brother with a warning in his eyes and a concise snap of, "_Can _it, Weasley."

Otogi raised an eyebrow, his act slipping briefly, before surfacing in that same smirk and gleam of eyes, "You _know_ what I want to hear, Black."

Seto glanced up from his coffee cup in faint interest, taking in the looks that were exchanged by those who had accompanied the Game Creator on his quest and settling his eyes on the suddenly uncomfortable Sirius Black.

The spirit took in the range of curious, watchful faces and cringed, grumbling out in a decidedly sheepish tone, "I'm not doing it."

"Right then, Priest it is," Otogi's hands closed together in a cheerful clap and his eyes turned back upon Seto, or rather, the curious dark-eyed High Priest that was now lingering just behind him, "Kaiba, would you care to do the honors?"

"_No_," Sirius blurted out at the dark stare that swiveled upon him, "I'll do it already."

Sirius took another quick recount of the present faces, thrilled to find that his Godson and his friends weren't among them, and added, "But you're _way _too sensitive. You must have been the neglected middle child."

Otogi's lips twitched again and he met the Spirit's sulking grey stare with a raise of his eyebrows and a flippant response of, "_Only_ child actually, Black."

"Explains a lot," the spirit replied with a wide fake smile.

"Get on with it Black," Lupin interrupted, the expression on his face indicating that he was getting _far _too much pleasure out of his friend's impending shame.

"You're supposed to be on _my _side, Moony," the Spirit sniped back before clearing his throat and giving a dubious look around the curious stares of his friends and colleagues and mumbling out a gloomy, "_Twinkle twinkle .._"

"Can't hear you," Mokuba enthused as he slipped into a seat at his older brother's side and gave a wide grin at the perturbed glare he received in response.

"The mini-Kaiba can't hear you Black," Otogi chided, leaning back against the table and cocking his head on an angle at the look he received, "_louder._"

A withering glare and mutter of, '_brat_,' telling the indignity of his tale, the Spirit cleared his throat again and enunciated in a louder, but no less gloomy, voice, "_Twinkle twinkle, little -_"

"Hand actions," Charlie prompted with a helpful grin and corresponding fluttering of his fingers.

"You heard the man," Otogi encouraged with an acknowledging nod in the Dragon Keeper's direction.

Sirius leveled a withering, disappointed glare upon the Dragon Keeper's smiling face and muttered in a distinctly wounded tone, "and _I _considered you a distant part-relation."

With another deep breath and corresponding swallowing of his pride, the Spirit started again, his hands rising in decidedly unenthusiastic corresponding gestures, "_Twinkle twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder .._" (**1**)

"_Sirius?_"

The tone was incredulous, green eyes wide with surprise behind his glasses which he rubbed at with his sleeves in disbelief as he repeated with a tad more vehemence, "_**Sirius**?_"

The Spirit paused abruptly, color creeping into his transparent skin as grey eyes caught sight of the stunned and staring figure of his Godson in the doorway. Harry Potter seemed hard-pressed to make his tongue function.

Sirius Black stared wordlessly back at his Godson, fingers caught in mid 'twinkle' and mouth drooping open, his tongue caught in mid sentence.

Harry seemed to recover his speech ability abruptly, his arm drooping back down to his side and his eyebrows contracting, his lips slowly turning in an odd smile, "Sirius .. Why are you singing nursery rhymes?"

Of all of the things that Sirius Black had expected, or _wanted _to hear from his Godson upon his triumphant return from supposed death and the fiery bowels of Snape's dungeons, _that _was not one of them.

"Bla-_ack_," Otogi drawled boredly, his lips drooping into a childish pout, "you weren't _finished._"

Sirius turned upon him with an incredulous, withering glare and found an all too amused green stare fixed upon him in response.

"You _planned _that, didn't you dice-boy?"

Otogi shrugged and gave an enigmatic smile, playing a pseudo-game of knucklebones with a pair of dice that had seemingly been drawn from nowhere. His eyes, however, told the story _all _too well.

"You _did,_" Sirius hissed in surprise, his eyes widening in something caught between being impressed and horrified.

For a moment Sirius merely stared in a mixture of wonder and despair at his new _temporary_ host before turning his head aside so that the Game Creator couldn't see the smallest trace of a smirk on his face and scoffing loudly.

"_Gypsies._"

* * *

"_So_," the question was mildly put, but, coming from the Egyptian that meant next to nothing, "_This_ is your plan."

Ryou turned a pointed scowl over his shoulder at the grimacing, blood-stained Egyptian and their pseudo-prisoner and tried to ignore the less than subtle judgment, "Do you have a _better _one?"

Malik took a slow, pointed look around at the grimy, rubbish strewn alleyway that was located in one of the more unsavory parts of London before directing his stare back to the opening at the end of the alleyway and the occasional glimpses of black-robed figures that strode passed.

"No," Malik mused aloud with a slight twitch of his lips, "I guess not."

From the indications that Ryou was being given, the Tomb Robber was pleased by the turn-out of Death Eater's. Ryou however, didn't share his enthusiasm.

In complete contrast, their prisoner seemed in decidedly good cheer for someone who had just betrayed his very own psychotic cult-leader and was colorfully commentating as generic black robed Death Eaters stalked passed the end of their alleyway.

"And _that's _Avery. You can tell by his gimpy walk," Rabastan intoned cheerfully as another Death Eater stalked right passed their alleyway without bothering to glance in.

Ryou grimaced visibly.

"And those two over there by the lamp post, Mulciber and Dolohov. Mulciber's the one who keeps on scratching himself _right_ in the-"

There was a grunt and Rabastan cast a surly look in the Egyptian's direction, rubbing his arm discretely as Malik turned an oddly pleased smile towards him, "I don't know about you, but _I _sure feel better."

Ryou turned a sharp look over his shoulder again which was duly ignored by both parties as Rabastan muttered something beneath his breath that certainly _sounded _rude and Malik retorted with another punch in the Death Eater's arm.

"This is ridiculous," Ryou muttered beneath his breath as he turned back towards his observation of the road, "I don't know _why _I insisted we save him. He probably would have had them all sitting around drinking tea and playing hopscotch in a couple of weeks .."

"With _my _eye," came the savage growl from beside the white haired boy as Bakura emerged from the shadows he had been observing from and casting a sharp, hungry scarlet stare in the Egyptian's direction.

Ryou took a deep breath, counted backwards from five and returned his stare to the pair. Rabastan, it seemed, had returned to pointing out the individual quirks of his former-Colleagues. Malik, however, wasn't looking all _that _controlled right about now ..

Ryou flinched at the sheen of darkness that seemed to encompass the Egyptian like the pulse of an incoming tide and moved, with some minor reservations, back towards them as Malik dissolved into soft hysterical chuckles.

Rabastan winced and shifted away, hands compulsively moving towards his still tender throat from the _last _time he had gotten too close.

"He's unstable," Ryou murmured aloud and Rabastan watched as the spirit-bound form of the Tomb Robber sneered down at the Egyptian with an overwhelming sense of dislike.

"I could've told you _that_," Rabastan scoffed back, massaging his throat subconsciously.

"He is _weak. _He is failing the Eye's test."

The Tomb Robber almost sounded _delighted._

"He is failing his _own _test," Ryou replied curtly and moved towards the Egyptian.

"We need to move," Rabastan declared abruptly, slowly regaining his feet and his eyes distractedly turned away from the scene before him.

Malik spared an irate lavender stare for the former Death Eater as he snapped himself out of the dark haze he had slipped into to hiss an indignant, "Do you see _me _interrupting _your _mental breakdowns?"

"Only the badly timed ones," Ryou murmured as he caught sight of what Rabastan had been staring at.

Biting down on his lip to smother the growl of frustration that rose through his throat the Egyptian followed their stares, fighting back another wave of darkness that threatened to find its footing and saw what it was that had Rabastan reaching into his pocket for his stolen wand.

"_Lestrange_," the voice was deceptively pleasant though it's source was anything but.

Rabastan fixed his eyes firmly ahead, quite unable to describe the feeling that dwelled in his stomach as he glimpsed a head of wild-white hair or the glimpse of blood-drenched blonde that suddenly stood at his side. Though it was something caught between utter terror and relief.

A slow winding smile curled across the Tomb Robber's lips, scarlet eyes catching the shimmer of gold that settled upon his chest and being set alight in sharp contrast to the dark shadows that pooled across his face.

Rabastan fixed his stare upon the towering hooded figure in the middle and shifted his grip upon his wand with determination, his lips quirking faintly at the faint murmur that escaped from between the gritted teeth of Malik Ishtar.

"And so, the fun begins .."

* * *

The upper levels of the household were deserted when Seto emerged, sweaty and exhausted, from the upstairs living room. In theory he had been catching up on the stacks of paperwork that continued to pile up every day he was away from Domino City, the reality was that Set had once again managed to convince him otherwise. (**2**)

Set's lessons seemed to be of increasing importance to the Spirit. Seto had begun to suspect that something or someone had successfully managed to get under the High Priest's skin, something that Seto knew for a fact was no small accomplishment.

By the time that Seto reached the staircase, the eerie quiet of the upper levels had been substituted for the rambunctious infiltration of sound from the kitchen below.

The sounds of celebration were not often heard in the House of Black.

Not bothering to contain the scowl that sprouted upon his lips at a high trill of laughter that floated up the staircase, Seto began the trek downstairs with a certain amount of reluctance.

'Cheer up Omote,' Set teased lightly, 'I hear that parties are sometimes considered to be _fun _events.'

'A comforting sentiment,' Seto retorted dryly, faintly surprised at just how dark it had gotten since he had first sat down to start his paperwork.

As he descended the sounds of the party grew louder and his own reluctance to immerse himself in the atmosphere panged sharply within him. He heard a faint hiss from one of the portraits and fought back a grimace, instead casting a sharp blue glare at the badly singed woman who ducked out of frame hurriedly at his attentions. (**3**)

By the time that he neared the base of the staircase the noise from the party was so engaging that Seto almost didn't notice the solemn figure perched upon the steps, yet as he did he slowed almost to a halt.

If celebration was uncommon to the House of Black, the sense of isolation that surrounded Otogi Ryuuji was utterly _foreign._

It wasn't often that Seto acknowledged that he was uncomfortable in a situation. But, as he watched the Game Creator silently twirl one of the many rings that regularly adorned his fingers before his eyes with that lost expression, Seto felt as if he were intruding.

There were _many _things that Otogi Ryuuji didn't show to the world.

Vulnerability was one of them.

Determination steeling over the flicker of uncertainty in his mind, Seto continued down the steps, drawing green eyes abruptly from their solemn reverie to rise in a startled stare. The back of the Game Creator's sleeve was hurriedly forfeited to wipe surreptitiously at the suspiciously _wet _state of his cheeks.

Seto pretended not to notice.

"Kaiba," the Game Creator addressed at length, fingers closing tight around the ring that had held his undivided attention only moments before, shielding it from sight.

The elder Kaiba paused at the bottom of the staircase, hand poised upon the banister and goaded by a strangely compelling need to say something in return.

'_That_ would be your conscience, omote,' Set informed him helpfully.

'A fine time for it to wake up,' Seto retorted with a faint grimace before redirecting his attention to the Game Creator.

"I thought you would be celebrating," the elder Kaiba observed aloud, blue eyes turning back to fix on the watchful Otogi.

The Game Creator paused, his eyes returning to his closed fist and an odd look crossed his face before at length replying, "It's not my kind of party."

Silence ruled between them for several moments and Otogi reopened his fist to again inspect the ring he held with a faint embittered smile surfacing upon his lips.

"I thought I'd left this life behind," the Game Creator mused aloud as he gently brushed a finger across the engraved surface, "all those years ago when my father said he'd had enough, I thought it was over. Who was I kidding?"

Green eyes gleamed as he slipped the ring back onto its designated finger and Otogi's stare rose to fix upon the silent Seto with a shake of his head and a harsh, ugly laugh. "But what am I telling _you _for? Like you'd care."

Otogi lapsed into a brooding silence again, distractedly twirling loose strands of dark hair around his fingers and chewing his lower lip before turning his eyes upwards as Seto spoke abruptly. "What does the engraving say?"

Otogi seemed faintly surprised, his eyes turning from the ring that Seto's eyes were fixed upon and back towards the elder Kaiba himself. A solitary finger absently traced across the engraving as he recited it aloud, "_Tout passe, Tout lasse, Tout casse._" (**4**)

An eyebrow rose accordingly and Seto's blue eyes turned away with an accompanying dry murmur of, "an inspirational number then?" escaping as his mind scratched up a translation.

Otogi's lips twitched in response and he glanced upwards to meet the dry blue stare with a trace of interest, "I suppose you could say that. It was my Grandmother's."

"She sounds cheerful," Seto replied, leaning against the bannister almost subconsciously, the sounds of music abruptly joining the jumble of other sounds that encompassed the kitchen and dining room.

"She was a bitter, wratched old hag," Otogi replied curtly, fingers smoothing out the material across his knees with a grimace rising upon his face, "And nobody could blame her for it. She hated the constant traveling as much as I did. But the strangest thing is, no matter how much you hate it, after a while you forget how to stop."

The Game Creator paused, rising slowly to his feet and meeting Seto's stare with an oddly appreciative one of his own. He let out a soft laugh and shook his head, "I guess it's in the blood."

With a dissociative shrug as though to cast off his thoughts, the Game Creator trailed the last few steps down the staircase and moved towards the door, his body language shifting in the process to return to an almost haughty air of exuded confidence. As he paused just before the doorway, the smells of Molly Weasley's baking and the harsher taint of alcohol filling his nostrils, Otogi cast a sly green glance over his shoulder to fix fleetingly upon Seto, "cheer up Kaiba, you look like I just broke your favourite toy."

With that the door was pulled wide open and the noise of the party erupted, leaving Seto to watch as Otogi swept through the doors and wonder to himself just what he had witnessed.

* * *

The following morning brought a soothing peace to the House of Black following the hearty celebrations of the night before. The recovering residents were quiet and, Seto noted with some pleasure, suffering for their night of loud and obnoxious happiness. Seto was glad for the peace.

The baby dragon had long ago stolen several pieces of toast from the table and had now retired to crunch happily upon them beneath his chair. Molly Weasley was too tired to put up any arguments about the pile of crumbs that were sure to be left behind.

All in all, Seto thought that even Yuugi couldn't ruin this morning for him, but unfortunately that seemed to be a _sore _underestimation of his opponent.

"Kaiba-kun?"

At first Seto thought it must have been the cynical part of his mind prompting him from his good mood through hallucination, but when the polite questioning voice repeated itself Seto grimaced.

"What Yuugi?"

Seto didn't even look up from his paper.

"I challenge you to a duel."

Seto's eyes froze upon the word he had been reading and several heads turned slowly towards the pair with as much curiosity as they could muster, including a less than thrilled Mokuba.

"What did you say?"

The paper drooped and Seto stared into the determined amethyst gaze of his rival blankly.

"He challenged you to a duel," declared a very pale and decidedly weary looking Tonks.

Mokuba's expression darkened and he discretely shook his head in the hopes that his brother would catch the gesture, though he highly doubted anything short of flash cards with _big _pictures would be able to get his message through to his elder brother at that moment.

"I know what he said," Seto retorted with a brief grimace in the Auror's direction before redirecting his stare to Yuugi and narrowing his eyes shrewdly, "_Why?_"

Yuugi offered a determined smile and his voice was calm as he replied, "Because we _need _to talk and you seem to do a _lot _of that when you duel."

"Ouch," was the mock-drawl as a ridiculously refreshed and cheerful Otogi sunk into a seat next to the King of Games, "The puppy _bites_."

Seto's eyebrow quirked upwards and he watched as Yuugi turned a reproachful stare towards the Game Creator while he turned his questioning inwards to the observant Set.

'Well Set, do I risk the destruction of the world by accepting his challenge?'

A ripple of irritation surfaced and the spirit's snarky reply made Seto's lips twitch, 'You mock me now omote, but when something happens ..'

The spirit of the Rod appeared to lean against the back of Seto's chair, watching Yuugi thoughtfully through the dark eyes.

'He has another reason for wanting to duel you omote, whatever it is you may as well just give it up now.'

Seto's smirk grew wider and he leaned back against his chair, eyes turning upwards to catch a glimpse of Set's chin, 'Where's your fighting spirit now, High Priest?'

'You'd do _better _practicing your Shadow Magic with me,' Set replied glibly, 'Though at the rate that _you're _going, the next time we need to summon the shadows we might just decimate the whole of London.'

'Your confidence in me is astounding,' Seto sneered back as his eye returned to meet Yuugi's and he shifted in place, blatantly ignoring the number of faces that Yuugi had effectively drawn their way.

'What can I say omote,' Set drawled back, his breath tickling the hairs on the back of Seto's neck, 'You've earned it.'

"_Hey .. _Kaiba."

Otogi winced as the hand that had previously been waving emphatically in the very near vicinity of Seto's face was stopped in its tracks by a sudden and very firm grip around the corresponding wrist and, with a grimace, Otogi met the less than enthused blue stare of the elder Kaiba.

When his wrist was released, Otogi hurriedly withdrew it and spared a glare for the smirking Bill Weasley at his side. Defiant green eyes returned to meet Seto's and a thin smile was offered, "Don't tell me you _still _adhere to the 'if I ignore them they'll all go away' policy? I thought you knew that didn't work."

"_Clearly_," Seto replied with a quaint twist of his lips and redirected his stare to Yuugi who was still patiently awaiting an answer. "I've been waiting to test out my new duel disk design, now is as good a time as any."

Yuugi's eyes almost immediately narrowed in suspicion. "You aren't trying to pull that same scam you used on Jou in Duelist Kingdom are you Kaiba?"

Even Mokuba looked vaguely offended.

"I don't need any_ tricks_ to beat you Mutou," was the snarled response and Set rolled his eyes over Seto's head.

"Remind me Kaiba, when _was _the last time you won against Yuugi again?"

The question was so innocently put that one might have almost mistaken the mocking gleam in Otogi's eyes for curiosity.

"I see you've been reinstated as head cheerleader then Dice-Boy," Seto mused back with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"Of course not," was the bored drawl from a smiling Sirius Black as he ventured down towards the lively end of the table like a moth to a fire, "_He _doesn't have the legs to pull it off."

A resounding silence followed the hoarse declaration and Otogi turned narrowed green eyes on his very own resident spirit and replied sharply, "Are you implying my legs are _fat?_"

Seto grimaced as Sirius waved the accusation away with a knowing smile and a provoking consolation of, "Of _course _not."

"So Kaiba-kun?" Yuugi prompted hopefully, flinching at the decidedly irritable dark stare that Set directed at him from over Seto's head.

"I'm afraid," Set interrupted loudly, "That my omote is busy, tell my Cousin he can wait for another day."

Seto's surprised stare and Mokuba's grateful one both turned abruptly on the Priest, whose gaze was fixed firmly upon Yuugi.

"Alright," the King of Games murmured back in faint surprise, "Maybe another day then."

'Believe me omote,' Set interrupted as Seto moved to act on his indignation.

'That is _not _a good idea.'

* * *

Hermione wasn't sure what to think when Harry accosted her on her way to breakfast that morning with only a vague explanation of, "I've got something that I think you should see."

In her experience those words _rarely _meant anything good way about to happen and so, she made sure to prepare herself for anything including the possibility that Harry was just looking to embarrass a naked Ron with her presence. After all when one was friends with the Boy Who Lived and Ronald Weasley, there was bound to be a few unpleasant near-death experiences.

Of course, 'anything' was rather a general topic and so Hermione was _hardly _prepared to deal with what she was confronted with when she was ushered into Ron and Harry's bedroom and the door was surreptitiously closed behind her.

Seated on his bed and wearing a terribly smug expression that practically screamed, '_I told you so!_' was Ron Weasley, hands balancing several sheets of rather rumpled and tattered papers.

Hermione found herself almost wishing he _had _been naked – it would've been a damn sight less painful than the infuriating expression he was currently wearing.

"Don't say anything," Harry spoke up hurriedly, though whether he was talking to her or Ron wasn't entirely clear.

"Hermione, I just want you to read them."

The Boy Who Lived reached out to take the papers from Ron and extended them towards her, green eyes solemn. Hermione, however, did not take the extended papers and instead landed a suspicious stare on her best friends.

"Where did you get those?"

Harry grimaced, glancing towards Ron as the red-head supplied the answer coolly. "We nicked them from Kaiba's briefcase."

For a moment Hermione stared dumbstruck at the red-head before hissing out a horrified, "You did _what?_"

"Last night," Harry replied wearily, sinking down onto his own mattress. "We waited until he came downstairs and then we went and we looked and, well-"

Harry extended the papers again.

"I suggest you _look._"

"I knew it," she muttered with an additional roll of her eyes, "I knew you weren't _tired._"

With a sigh the witch sat down on the end of Ron's bed and extended a hand to take the papers from Harry, brown eyes narrowing as she began to read through the pages. Her frown only grew as she progressed.

The hieroglyphs above the translation were largely lost upon her, broken in places and smudged by careless hands. But the translation below was meticulously precise and neat.

"It's some kind of spell or potion," she murmured aloud, brushing away graphite from her fingers on the bed-spread before correcting herself aloud, "No, it's a ritual."

"A _dark _ritual," Ron replied sharply with narrowed eyes.

"_I commit to the shadows; bone, flesh, blood and soul_," she murmured aloud, eyebrows contracted as she turned her eyes upwards in concern. "You found this in _Kaiba'_s briefcase?"

"Yeah, and that's not all," Harry replied, sliding a hand under his mattress and withdrawing a stack of photographs and passing them over, "_These _were in there as well."

Hermione frowned as she brushed a hand over the top photograph, in the center she caught sigh of the crest of hair that characterized Yuugi Mutou, flanked by a tall blue-eyed brunette girl and an even-taller grinning blond boy.

The next included the white-haired Bakura and a brunette boy in addition to the previous group. "Why," Hermione murmured softly as she continued flicking through the photographs, many of which included Kaiba himself, "Does he have photographs of these people?"

"He's been scoping out his target," Ron muttered darkly, indicating the photos with a tilt of his head.

"His _target?_" Hermione replied, a skeptical narrowing of her eyes leading Harry to hurriedly intervene.

"That ritual Hermione, the only time I've ever heard or read about anything _like _that was the night in the graveyard when Cedric died, and _that _ritual gave Voldemort his body back."

"But Harry," she interrupted with a spared small smile as though in understanding, "What use would _Kaiba _have for this?"

"I don't know about _Kaiba_," Ron muttered loudly, "But that Spirit sure looks in need of a body right now."

Hermione ran her fingers through her tangled ponytail and turned her eyes back to the ritual with a faint shudder rolling through her spine as she read the near black writing, '_begun by blood._'

"It sounds," she murmured softly as she averted her eyes sharply. "Like this needs a _live _sacrifice, something about the transference of power?"

"It would explain a lot Hermione," Harry murmured. "The arguments, why his _friends _keep on showing up like they do."

The witch chewed her lower lip thoughtfully before shaking her head sharply, "What am I_ thinking?_ This is ridiculous! Why would Kaiba go to such lengths to help us .. He _saved _Bill and Moody, he helped the Order out .."

"When it _suited _him," Ron replied harshly. "He helped saved that Malik guy the first time because he's _in _on it. I bet he was the one who found the ritual in the first place and that Bakura guy – I bet that Kaiba hired him to help out."

"And Otogi? _Yuugi?_" Hermione replied wearily.

"Well that Otogi guy is a Gypsy right? They practically _invented _dark magic like that! I bet that Kaiba needs him to help perform it."

Hermione rolled her eyes but Ron persisted, "-_And _I bet that Yuugi is the sacrifice – _that's _why they went to such trouble to rescue him even though they can't stand each other. That's why he's in so many of those photos."

Ron gestured sharply in the direction of the photographs.

"Ron," Hermione interrupted sharply, "_Why _would Kaiba photograph _himself._"

"I dunno, maybe he fancies himself .."

The photos were tossed in the red-head's direction and scattered across the bedspread as Hermione snapped, "_These_ are the photographs that he found in the Ministry of Magic. The photographs that he _told _the Order about."

Her eyebrows raised sharply as Ron stared down at them blankly before he started again, "No-one actually _saw _that room in the Ministry except for Kaiba, did they? Maybe he just _said _that that's where they're from – to throw us off his trail!"(**5**)

Hermione fought the very _real _urge to smack her head against the wall.

"Ron," her voice was filled with a hard-won patience. "When Kaiba and the Spirit were arguing, Kaiba said that _he _was the sacrifice, _and, _you're forgetting that without the help of these people we wouldn't know that Sirius is still alive, your brother and Moody would both be dead and who _knows _what else!"

"Kaiba only helps himself," Ron contested, "That's what Otogi said. He's got a _reason _for pretending to help us Hermione."

"What do you mean _pretending? _He saved your brother's _life!_"

Harry grimaced and turned his gaze away as Ron sat up to argue his point. The thing was that they knew so _little _about Seto Kaiba that Ron's theory was _all _too plausible – and who _knew _what the Spirit of the Rod was capable of. Harry had _not _forgotten the tone in Set's _or _Seto's voices when they had talked of power and destiny that day in Dumbledore's office.

The fact of the matter was that Harry wasn't willing to take any chances with this one.

He was going to Dumbledore.

* * *

The day passed with little activity save for the slow recovery of the household and their rise back into nauseating good cheer. It was something that Seto Kaiba cared very little for experiencing, he had had enough of their good moods the night before.

The excitable group were currently overpopulating the Kitchen area, a small mercy for which Seto wasn't entirely convinced he should be grateful for. Anything that prevented his ritualistic coffee rush and then demanded he be _grateful _for it was just begging to have their closest appendage impaled by a playing card. (**6**)

Thus, Seto was to be found studiously avoiding the nauseating sounds of good cheer and the warbling sounds of Celestina Warbeck and instead distracted rifling through his briefcase in a singularly foul mood.

Set, however, failed to be intimidated.

"You know, omote, in Khemet people used to survive just fine without multiple shots of caffeine," the Priest lent back against the door frame and crossed his arms over his chest, not bothering to hide the quirk of his lips. "_We _even managed to make civilized conversation at regular intervals throughout the day."

A surly blue glare pinpointed the half-smirking Priest and Seto rose a hand to swipe a wayward strand of chestnut from his eyes, "and _your civilization_ was soon conquered by better organized and more efficient nations. Imagine that."

Set's eyebrows shot upwards and he hid the hit taken with a patience that he wasn't aware that he possessed. Settling for watching Seto empty his briefcase with growing irritation.

When the shining metal of the case was cleared of neatly stacked papers, files and miscellaneous objects and Seto's expression ventured beyond irritation into darker territories, the Priest decided it was to inquire further and gently pushed his way into Seto's mind.

With a jolt Set was pushed backward hurriedly and he eyed Seto with a certain amount of caution from his vantage point. He hadn't realized that Seto was genuinely _angry._

"Omote," Set began warily.

"Someone has taken them," Seto snapped back, the briefcase dropping to the floor with a clang.

Set stood straight, arms dropping to his sides as he fixed dark eyes on the furious face of his reincarnation. A shiver rolled down his spine as Seto's stare met his own.

"The creature?" Set questioned, eyebrows furrowed.

"I doubt it," Seto scoffed in return, "They were here yesterday afternoon and the lock is not broken."

Blue eyes soured at this mentioning and Set realized the allegation in place without surprise.

"Who?" Set began, his own gaze darkening and his head turning towards the doorway.

"Someone who _knew _that I had left it in the living room, who _knew _that if there was anything to find it would be in there."

Set's eyes widened abruptly and he shook his head sharply as Seto's next words were thrown defiantly out, "Someone who seems to have a _lot _of questions."

"The Pharaoh would _not_," Set declared, his tone cautionary and low.

"Then _who?_" Seto replied, rising to his feet with a grimace and swiping away intrusive strands of chestnut from his sight.

As the elder Kaiba made for the doorway, Set stepped into his way, dark eyes fixed pointedly on Seto's own.

"That translation is dangerous Omote, if someone has it then we need to get it back."

"I know that," Seto replied sharply, the anger in his eyes seemed to bleed away into something even more unsettling, "Which is what I am about to do."

"Omote."

"I'm tired of playing by _their _rules Set," Seto's eyes chilled and his expression smoothed, "It's about time that I made a few of my own."

Set paused, warily watching his reincarnation with the dawning of a resolve that matched Seto's own, "If we do this omote, there won't be any turning back."

Seto's lips turned in a cold, abrasive smirk.

"And that's just the way I like it."

* * *

The dining room was just beginning to fill for dinnertime as Seto threw the door open with furious purpose and swept inside without ceremony, none-the-less managing to attract the attention of the room.

If the residents of the House of Black failed to notice the particular set of his shoulders or the sharp clicks that his swift, angry strides made upon the floor than they could not have missed the terrible calm that had settled upon Seto Kaiba's face, a calm that was marred by the storm that was raging in impossibly blue eyes.

It made Molly Weasley freeze in place, still holding the casserole dish in midair. It made Remus Lupin choke on the mouthful of tea that he was swallowing and it made Alastor Moody push back his chair and reach for his wand with a resounding screech.

Seto Kaiba wasn't just angry. No, the encompassing calm that set his features radiated an emotion that _far _surpassed anger.

This was the expression that he had worn upon waking for the first time in months and discovering his little brother abducted and his board of directors had turned mutinous. This was the expression that he had worn he had unflinchingly placed himself in the path of Death itself and told Yuugi Mutou to his _god _damned worst.

This was the expression he had worn the day that he threw defeat in the face of Gozaburo Kaiba and conquered his very own empire.

No, it was not _anger _that chilled the blood of a staring Yuugi Mutou. After all, he had born witness to _that_ expression before.

This was anger stamped upon, forged into determination, determination shaped by willpower. This was what made Seto Kaiba the last person on earth that you should _ever _wish to cross. This was the single-minded determination that Yuugi _knew _meant the end.

_This _was a smile.

It was cold and frightening and spoke of determination and the power of human volition in volumes that Yuugi fought to _comprehend,_ let alone harness, and _Gods _did it scare him.

"Seto," Molly exhaled as she shook away shock and set the dish upon the table with trembling hands, "I was just about to call for you."

The smile remained.

Cloaked in his very best apparel it was apparent that there was something to the situation that Seto Kaiba hid behind that smile. Yuugi found himself beginning to worry as he took in the spotless bone-white leather laid against black, the gleam of silver buckles, the raging gleam of _that _in his rival's eyes. The silver briefcase in hand – a new, sleek duel disk cradling his wrist.

'_Kaiba'_s back,' Atemu murmured through Yuugi's mind and Yuugi knew precisely what his other half meant.

"You needn't bother," Seto declared sharply, coldly, a quick glance in Mokuba's direction bringing the younger brother to his feet, "we won't be staying."

"Hang on a minute-" Charlie began, rising to his feet and ignoring the low menacing growl that rose through the air.

"I don't believe I will," Seto replied, blue eyes dismissing the Dragon Keeper as he turned upon the gawking spectators, "who has them?"

Startled silence greeted his question as most eyes were consumed by Set's arrival at his reincarnation's side, watching a slender hand drape over Seto's shoulder but be blatantly ignored.

"Who has what exactly?" Lupin spoke up, beginning to rise from his seat

"The papers that were stolen from my briefcase," Seto replied coldly, observing the reactions carefully and catching the flinch from Hermione and the meaningful look shared by Harry and Ron.

Mokuba's eyes narrowed sharply and he moved towards his brother, pausing to stand at his side and turn his eyes back upon the assembled group. Making sure that _they _knew where his loyalties lay.

That unnerving smile never left his lips.

"Kaiba-kun," Yuugi's intervention was well meant but had little effect as Seto's eyes merely paused upon him briefly.

"I suggest," Seto declared coldly as he turned his stare onto the Boy Who Lived directly and there it remained, "you go get them now."

Harry remained in his seat, staring back at the furious figure of the elder Kaiba with suspicion clouding his stare.

"Harry does not _know _where your papers are," Molly Weasley trilled sharply in flustered indignation, trying her best but unable to ignore that smile upon his lips.

"Ron," was Hermione's silencing hiss as the red-head made to speak out, his flushed complexion and the sparks in his eyes enough to suggest that whatever he had been planning to say hadn't been pleasant.

"_Omote,_" Set's voice was almost as cold as his Reincarnation's, though flavored with a warning.

Mokuba reached out to grab his elder brother's hand, slate-blue eyes searching out his brother's stare and meeting them with determination.

"You can't leave," was Molly Weasley's next declaration, "Dumbledore forbade it."

Yuugi seemed to stir from his silence abruptly and turned concerned eyes upon his rival, "They'll find you."

"I'm counting on it," the elder Kaiba replied in that same determined tone.

"Don't be foolish Kaiba," was the sharp response from a narrow-eyed Atemu as he appeared behind his other half, "They'll send you to jail or worse."

Set's eyes darkened at the prospect and his response was nothing short of icy, "They can _try._"

"_Kaiba._"

The complaint was silenced with a sharp blue stare, filled with an unshakable resolve that Atemu knew _only _too well.

"I am going to finish this," Seto replied crisply with narrowed eyes, "I am doing what I should have done a _long _time ago. "

That cold smile was flashed briefly back at them as Seto turned on his heel and headed back towards the door, Mokuba at his side and the Spirit of the Rod fading from view.

* * *

The streets outside were sleepy with dusk, the first flickering bulbs of white light awakening in their high perches above the dirty, noisy streets of London. The area they were in wasn't one of the better ones, Ryou observed as he glanced surreptitiously over his shoulder at the staggering and idly humming Malik and a pale-faced, blood-splattered Rabastan Lestrange. At least here their battered and exhausted appearances weren't questioned.

Already the thump of bass and roar of inebriated clientele populated the more lively back-streets.

Ryou's lips quirked faintly and his eyes moved downwards, ignoring the twinge of pain that shot through his arm as he moved it he reached for the dormant pendant at his neck and murmured a faint, "_show me_."

The corresponding glow and shifting of points directed him down another side-street and he followed, walking swiftly passed the blank stare of a drunkard sitting upon the curb.

Rabastan's eyes were narrowed as he observed the dirty, rubbish strewn sidewalk and he cast a glance over his shoulder as the drunkard's blood-shot eyes followed their path. "Where are you taking me?" the former-Death Eater inquired aloud, wincing as the Egyptian staggered and jarred his shoulder.

Ryou cast a brief glance over his shoulder, kicking a half-full beer can from his path and hiding a smile as Malik intervened with a loud and irritable mutter of, "Hell, you should be familiar enough with it. The foods good but the company is _terrible._"

The Death Eater cast a dark look in the Egyptian's direction and raised a hand to brush away a fresh trickle of blood from the reopened wound upon his cheek. "You must be mistaken," he retorted at length, eyes trained upon the faintly glowing head of white-hair ahead of them, "Hell is _that _way."

"How do you think your _Lord _will take to having an army of Kens and Barbies at his disposal?" Malik inquired at length, determined to keep a diversion in place between him and the shadow wrapped around his being.

Upon receiving a very blank look from the Death Eater in question the Egyptian withheld a grin and clarified, "Dolls."

Ryou spared an amused look over his shoulder.

"I imagine he'll do as any other Dark Lord would," the Death Eater replied with an eerily straight face as the streetlight above them flickered and cut out, leaving them to the icy fog that was rolling in over the streets, "Distribute them as merchandise when his regime takes over."

Ryou cast another look over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, adding a soft, "sounds like something that Kaiba-kun would do."

When silence once again fell between the trio the darkness of the streets seemed to close in, all the darker for the brief spotlights that the streetlights cast down upon them.

"Is it just me," Malik murmured aloud, solitary lavender eye distant and seeming to sharpen as goose bumps tore across his flesh and he rubbed at them with a free hand, fancying he saw a shape in the haze of icy fog that curled around his knees.

"Or is that fog getting _thicker?_"

* * *

"This," Mokuba muttered, slate-blue eyes fixed numbly down upon the dark pavement below and fingers clenched tight to the window frame, "Is _ridiculous._"

Goosebumps swelled upon the bare flesh of his arms and he turned away from the open window to his brother. "Why can't we be like any _sane _people and use the bloody front door?"

Seto's eyes rose, mildly amused, to meet his younger brothers stare as he zipped up the last of their luggage and replied, "Because they expect us to."

"And?" Mokuba replied sharply, "Why is it a _bad _thing to want to do things the sane way?"

"They'll stop us," Seto answered, hoisting a bag in either hand and casting them out the window with a careful precision.

Mokuba grimaced and cast another dubious look in the windows direction as his brother reached for the next lot of luggage. If he listened carefully he could hear the loud and heated debate raging in the lower levels.

No, the Wizards were not at all happy the prospect of the Kaiba brothers up and leaving.

Otogi on the other hand ..

"So, you're leaving then?"

.. _He _sounded almost delighted.

The Game Creator lent curiously in the door frame, eyes fixed on the elder Kaiba as he finished with the luggage and carefully aimed his briefcase to land on top of the pile.

"Yeah," Mokuba grumbled as Seto turned back towards the bed and straightened the pile of papers that he had set at the end.

For a moment the elder Kaiba paused, eyeing the pages with a frown before he lifted his trench coat from the mattress, slipped it over his shoulders and turned back to his brother. Mokuba was about to protest when Seto procured a jacket of his own and smirked when his little brother's mouth snapped shut.

"_Well_," Otogi murmured faintly, eyeing the pair with interest before standing tall and summoning a smile to his lips. "Good luck then."

Seto watched as the Game Creator took a step back into the hallway, his lips quirking in that same odd smile and saluted the pair before disappearing towards the staircase. Lips twitching into a frown the elder Kaiba moved to the window.

Inflaming the frown that marked Mokuba's face with a faint smirk, Seto gripped the window frame in his hands and boosted himself up to crouch upon the window sill, surveying his landing point with a calculating stare.

Mokuba winced and Seto's lips curled further.

Then, with a push of his legs, he was gone.

Free-falling through black skies, skin frozen by buffeting icy air and the sound of bone-white leather whipping in his ears. Eyes stung with the rush of wind but he refused to close them, instead watching as the world came up to meet him far too quickly for his liking.

He landed with a softened thud upon the safety point of their luggage, crouched just shy of landing upon his less than cushiony briefcase. Seto found his breath was racing right along with his pulse and found himself more alive than he had felt in weeks. With wide and awake eyes he stood and moved clear of the luggage, lifting his briefcase and pulling it free with a wide smile that was hidden in the night.

Adrenaline pounded through him at a rate that was almost dizzying and as blue eyes turned upwards to the worriedly on-looking Mokuba he fought back a laugh. He watched on as his younger brother moved hesitantly onto the window sill and peered down at him doubtfully.

"Mokuba."

His call rang out through the silence of night and his brothers eyes fixed upon him. Seto's lips quirked.

"Whatever you do – don't look down."

* * *

Otogi hesitated to return to the chaos of downstairs, pausing instead to sit upon the top-most step of the staircase and listen with faint amusement as Molly Weasley's voice hit a pitch that he decided only dogs had any luck with hearing.

The Wizards were clueless to the fact that the object that was causing so much debate amongst them was escaping as they spoke, something that caused the Game Creator to chuckle to himself as he rolled a single dice across his palm.

He listened as Yuugi attempted to assure Molly Weasley that Seto _would _calm down and see sense if he was given the time and his smile broadened.

"Forever the optimist, Yuugi-boy," Otogi chided, lips curling as he twirled a strand of dark-hair through his fingers and silenced a laugh.

Hearing a muffled shriek echo from behind the Kaiba brothers door, Otogi winced slightly and turned his eyes back downstairs.

It was a good thing that the Wizards were that loud.

Otogi yawned and stretched his legs out across the next few steps, his lips turning a decidedly good-humored smile at the prospect of being the one to tell Molly Weasley of the Kaiba brothers escape.

As it was Otogi nearly didn't notice the near-transparent form of Sirius Black as he sat down on the step beside him and turned towards the spirit abruptly, masking his surprise with a languid observation of, "I thought you'd be downstairs quarreling with your friends about who gets to knock Kaiba off."

Sirius raised an eyebrow in response, extending his long legs over the steps as Otogi had done and not bothering to hide the amused smile that twitched at his lips, "I don't see that there is any point," he mused lightly, eyes falling upon the smirking Otogi. "They've already left haven't they?"

Otogi's smirk grew in delight and he added a cheerful, "through the window."

Contrary to Otogi's expectations the Spirit began to laugh loudly and turned gleaming grey eyes upon him. "With all the times that _I _snuck out that window when I was in this house, you'd think that I would have thought of it."

Otogi noted with vague interest that Sirius' laughter sounded oddly like a dog barking.

"Although," Sirius resumed with the touch of a frown, "_I _always had a broomstick or a bouncing charm to aid in _my _escape."

"And Kaiba's completely insane," Otogi replied with a roll of his eyes.

Sirius began to laugh again and nodded his agreement, "well that's bound to help."

For a while they sat in silence, listening as Lupin attempted to calm a raging Molly Weasley and failed miserably.

"Shouldn't you be alerting the search party?" Otogi inquired at length, eyeing the Spirit as he stared down into the dark entrance hall, lips turned in a smile that indicated he got an unsavory amount of pleasure from his childhood friends failure.

"That would be a waste of a perfectly executed escape plan," Sirius retorted, rising to his feet and taking a few steps down the stairs before turning and grinning back up at his temporary host.

"You're mad," Otogi snorted back.

"Barking mad," the Spirit replied with a wide grin before dissolving into his own laughter.

Otogi rolled his eyes and rose to his feet, following the Spirit's path down the steps to stop beside him and lean against the bannister. Green eyes fixed upon the doorway that contained very little of the noise of the debate before turning back to the Spirit and asking aloud, "How long before they realize he's already gone?"

"Maybe an hour, half an hour if Molly passes out from lack of oxygen."

Otogi raised an eyebrow, "So long? I thought quarter of an hour – Lupin sounds close to hexing her."

Sirius shook his head in condescending manner and clucked his tongue, "That's where Moony's got you fooled. He's _far _too repressed for any of that – unless someone's spiked his tea of course."

"Stranger things have happened," Otogi replied with a quirk of his lips, turning to continue his path down the staircase before pausing as he reached the doorway.

The abused wood did little to deafen the volume of the debate.

With a resolute sigh the Game Creator pushed open the door to the Kitchen at the precise same moment as the front door swung open.

The thud of the latter door against the wall drew first Otogi's then Sirius' stares, and for a full moment Otogi was stricken dumb at the sight before him.

Of the many things that Otogi had expected, he had _not _been prepared for the one in front of him.

* * *

**Footnotes:**  
**1. **I chose the nursery rhyme '_Twinkle Twinkle Little Star_' for many reasons, not the least of which was that it was a terribly bad pun on the origins of Sirius' name and of course, that it has the most goofy hand gestures to accompany it.  
**2**. Minds from the gutter, people. _Honestly_.  
**3**. For those of you who have feared for the fate of the portrait of Mrs. Black, never fear. She isn't gone, she's just wisely keeping her mouth shut.  
**4**. A French proverb that roughly translates to, "Everything passes, everything wears out, everything breaks," or something similar. Cheerful hmm?  
**5**. The Golden Trio keeping to their proud tradition of jumping to the _wrong _conclusions .. Or _are _they?  
**6**. Who else was impressed by the hand-impaling in BC?

* * *

**AN: **It's been a while since my last update, but not ridiculously long so I find myself quite excused. I was slightly poutish at my review count for last chapter, being the spoiled materialistic little wench that I am. They say that it's the thought that counts but we all know that that's really one big lie. You've spoiled me. Hopefully the chapter didn't disappoint, we're getting to the nitty gritty now, it's all action from here on out .. And _my _wasn't that one of the worst cliff-hanger's I've given yet. I feel decidedly bad for that .. But not bad enough to write a whole other scene. Enjoy!

* * *

"_Welcome aboard the Good Ship Ass-Kisser, nice day for a sail.  
Pucker up, me hearties._"


	29. Breakout

**Book One of Eight;**

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Twenty** **Eight-**  
Breakout

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

_

* * *

_

There were many things that Set had come to admire about his reincarnation.

He admired that, in the face of what some men might call insanity, Seto Kaiba was fearless. He admired that it ran against Seto Kaiba's very _nature _to settle for anything less than the best and even more than that, he admired the fact that should Mokuba's half-hearted moaning rephrase into an actual request to turn back, Seto would not hesitate to do so.

The streets were dark, cold and drenched with fog but Seto's focus did not sway. He stalked the pavement with the grueling resolve of a man on a mission and in doing so gave Set a glimpse of everything that made his reincarnation such a formidable opponent.

In action, Seto Kaiba was breathtaking.

All the components of his character seemed to melt into one higher being and he functioned as the lion does on the hunt. He was resourceful, ruthless and calculative. More treacherous than any snake and more cunning than any fox. He was intuitive, intelligent and more than that, his every action was instinctual.

It seemed to Set that the moment Seto had taken that leap from the window sill he had shifted into some unknown higher gear, leaving the rest of humanity to wallow in the dust of his wake. (**1**)

And it was intoxicating.

"'_Nii-sama_."

Mokuba's soft moan tapered off into a whine, a fact that was well documented to test and stretch the elder Kaiba's patience to it's very limits.

And Seto Kaiba was _not _a man give to patience.

"Yes Mokuba?"

Irritation sparked upon his tongue yet was held carefully in check, Seto _could _be patient when he wanted to be. It just so happened that there wasn't much that Seto Kaiba was _willing _to be patient for. Luckily for the younger Kaiba, _he _was one of the very few exceptions.

"I thought you were going to call in for a chopper _ages _ago."

A frown accompanied the faintly irritable glare that traced over the younger Kaiba's features and Mokuba paused, setting one of the bags that he was lugging at his feet in order to present a more impressive case.

Seto's stare was unamused at it met his brothers and he set one of his own bags down as well, giving the icy fog that encompassed them it's fair share of his displeasure before he focused entirely upon Mokuba.

"With the fog we will be difficult to locate, let alone pick up," Seto's eyebrow twitched upwards and he set his other bag at his feet. "If you wanted to rest you should have said so."

Mokuba's displeasure dissolved and his lip twitched faintly as he set the other bag at his side and the bratty facade seemed to vanish as quickly as it had come. "I know 'nii-sama, '_don't make excuses_."

There was something faintly mocking in Mokuba's repetition of words he had heard many times since the Kaiba brothers had had to fend for themselves.

Seto rolled his eyes and muttered a soft, "_Brat_," beneath his breath.

Mokuba hid a grin.

"It's good advice," Set drawled as he appeared out of the fog, though whether he had been investigating or was just now making his arrival was uncertain.

Seto's lips turned upwards at the pained grimace Mokuba gave and he moved backwards, turning full circle to inspect their surroundings with a thoughtful eye. "If we can get higher we might be able to send the signal," he mused aloud, eyes running the length of the derelict housing block with a calculative stare.

Mokuba grimaced and rubbed at his arms with a shiver, eyes fixed upon his elder brother as he carefully tapped at the silver Kaiba Corp logo that was emblazoned into the bone-white leather of his jacket.

Set turned to watch with interest as the crackle of static sounded and the connection flared into life. A trace of surprise laced through Seto's eyes and his fingers dropped back to his side as he murmured aloud, "The transmitter seems to be working."

Not fully realizing why this was so puzzling, Set turned his stare towards Mokuba whose expression mirrored that of his elder brothers, though it sparked with curiosity rather than suspicion. In an instant the expression had been wiped from Seto's face and replaced by the determined look he had been favoring all night, "We need to get above this fog."

Mokuba winced visibly and let out a long suffering sigh.

"We're going to have to climb something, aren't we?"

Set didn't bother to hide his smirk at the disgruntled tone of Mokuba's voice, quite forgetting the expressions that the Kaiba brothers had worn however briefly.

"What is your plan, omote?"

The Spirit almost sounded enthusiastic, his anticipation obvious as he turned towards Seto only to stop in bemusement as his reincarnation stared upwards with an unreadable expression upon his face.

When Seto failed to reply, Set frowned and repeated himself with a significant rise in volume, "_Omote?_"

Seto's gaze failed to return to earth, instead he directed in a decidedly sharp voice, "Look _up._"

Mokuba watched as Set followed Seto's instructions and when the same odd expression clouded Set's face he followed suit and what he saw both astounded and confused him.

While to all sides their vision was impaired by the thick intrusive fog, restricting their sight to less than five feet of themselves, the sky above was clear. Above them Mokuba could see both the pale 3 ¼ moon and the stars mapped out across the indigo sky. He could see the violent shade of red that characterized Mars and the burning light of Sirius.

"Is that even _possible?_" Mokuba thought aloud, tearing his eyes away to stare at his elder brother.

Seto's eyes returned to the ground reluctantly, "I don't think this fog is natural," he murmured in response.

"A hologram?" Mokuba suggested.

"A pointless and costly one," Seto replied with a dismissive shake of his head, "No. I doubt anyone in this city even has the technology to emulate the cold either – asides from us of course."

"Of course," Set intoned with a visible roll of his eyes.

"So, what then?" Mokuba asked, pointedly ignoring the spirit and reaching down to retrieve his bags.

Seto grimaced, looking as if he didn't quite believe what he was about to suggest himself, before muttering, "I think it's _un_natural."

"You mean _magical_," Set amended, his lips turning in a bold smirk that was mirrored upon Mokuba's face with frightening likeness.

"Yes," Seto replied tersely before shaking his head and muttering, "I was in that house for _far _too long."

Mokuba ducked his head to hide his smile behind a screen of wild dark hair and shifted the bags in his hands in search of a more comfortable position. Set, on the other hand, flaunted his smile wickedly at his reincarnation and mused loudly, "So what now, Omote?"

Seto turned his back on the Spirit, reaching up to his collar to activate the radio link and replying over his shoulder, "_Now_ we hitch a ride."

The crackle of static ripped through the air and Seto turned his attention back to his task, his voice sharp and commanding, "This is Seto Kaiba, requesting immediate pick-up .."

The resulting gasp of British accent caused Set to raise and eyebrow and Mokuba to stifle his laughter desperately behind his hands, his bags landing on the pavement with a resounding thud.

"Kaiba Sir? What's your location?"

Mokuba broke in his laughter long enough to wince on behalf of the man on the other end of the transmission as Seto's voice all but snarled out, "I don't _recall _giving leave to hire any idiots into my corporation-"

Set fought back a smirk and turned his head away as the man on the other end stammered out an apology and followed Seto's command of following the satellite feed.

The transmission was cut sharply and Seto turned an irritable look on his younger brother, whose attempts at stifling his laughter were failing miserably, and the smirking High Priest.

"You know 'nii-sama," Mokuba managed to throw out as his laughter faded away and was replaced with a wry grin, "You could have just _said _that you didn't know where we are."

"He was incompetent," Seto retorted.

"He was awe-stricken more like," Mokuba murmured with a visible roll of his eyes as he stooped to retrieve his bags from the pavement once again.

"_Besides_," Seto continued loudly, pretending he hadn't caught Mokuba's words and cocking his head towards the iron post that stood upon the street corner several feet away, "I knew exactly where we were."

Mokuba's eyes followed the length of the pole to find a street-sign perched neatly atop it and he let out a snort of something caught between despair and amusement.

"You're unbelievable," the younger Kaiba grumbled, settling a reproachful stare on his elder sibling and receiving a smirk in response.

"I'm the _boss_," Seto replied, eyes turning towards the star-laden skies briefly as a shudder rolled over him from the very base of his spine.

For a moment the group was silent, staring at their surroundings with little interest and growing steadily more unsettled by the eerie quiet of the world around them.

"It's freezing," Mokuba murmured abruptly as he hugged his luggage closer to his chest, watching in morbid fascination as his breath rose up in a fine silvery mist before his face.

Seto wasn't at all reluctant to agree with his brother. The cold that he had thought was coming from the fog had now spread deep into his bones, seizing in his chest sharply and dulling off the spark of determination that had been coursing red hot through his veins. The cold wasn't just a physical thing, he realized as the hairs on the back of his neck rose in protest and a sense of foreboding curdled his blood, it delved far deeper than _that._

Blue eyes turned automatically towards the shivering figure of his younger brother and found he was pale, his shaking not the least bit superficial and more connected to the shadow of memories that had spread through his blank stare than the icy fog that swirled steadily thicker around them. Seto took a step towards his brother, reaching out to cement a hand firmly upon his shoulder even as he slipped the coat from his own shoulders and pulled it firmly around his younger brother's.

The bone-white leather swamped the younger sibling in it's folds and with a start, Mokuba seemed to awaken from a daze, now trembling so violently that Seto knew it couldn't possibly just be from the temperature.

"There's something _out _there," the younger Kaiba murmured, his voice shaking as he pivoted, eyes squinting against the fog.

Seto followed suit, unquestioningly turning his eyes to the search.

The streetlight above them suddenly began to buzz, flickering violently against the sweeping tide of night before it cut out, plunging the street below into icy darkness. The fog seemed to grow thicker, curling around limbs and faces and blinding eyes until it seemed that they were drowning in it.

Seto anchored himself to his brother without a second thought, gripping his shoulder so tight that it was almost painful.

That was when he saw them.

They seemed to arrive as a wisp of dark smoke in the night, floating in the breathless air like marionettes on a puppeteers string, the byproducts of a child's worst nightmare. Their movements were deceptively slow, yet with every procession the knot in Seto's stomach seemed to ball tighter and the ice in his chest grew colder.

Seto's breathing grew shallow without him even knowing it, there was a muffled thud as Mokuba released his luggage once again to the mercy of the ground and a low soft moan rolled unbidden up the younger Kaiba's throat.

_Seto's eyes closed and he was eight years old again. Facing a wall of mourning black and grey and a plain white cross in the dirt. Face bone-dry and hand clenched ever so tightly around the chubby fingers of his little brother he knew that he was supposed to be crying. Everyone cried at their Father's funeral. _

_Or, at least that's what **they** were saying – the people who claimed to share their blood. The people who were their family **now**. _

_But Mokuba was too young to understand, quieted by the heavy atmosphere but swinging on Seto's arm and not knowing **why** another fleck of stone had embedded itself in his brother's eyes. _

_Mokuba was too **young**._

The cold muffled the sound, deadened the moan that rolled up his younger brother's throat but Seto felt a hand remove the grip from Mokuba's shoulder and instead squeeze sharply onto his own.

"What _are _they?" was the shaken murmur from the younger Kaiba as he stared into the tattered wisps of black that seemed to melt into the fog, surrounding them, outstretching glistening flesh-eaten hands but _ever _so silent.

Seto shuddered as they seemed to glide closer, his mouth seemed strangely dry as he replied in a strained voice.

_"I don't **know**."_

_But the voice wasn't his; it was sharp and mocking and deep. Matched with taunting black eyes that bore right through him. Seto's blood boiled and his fingers gripped so very tight onto the armrests of the chair, watching his Step-father in all his expensive finery stalk to and fro passed him sneering down his nose. Gozaburo liked to impress but more poignantly he liked to think of himself as impressive._

_"Did I adopt you so that you could shrug your shoulders when I try to teach you something?"_

_There was a certain amount of **glee** in Gozaburo's voice as he spoke. Seto knew that there was nothing he liked better than when Seto couldn't answer him, when Seto **didn't** know the answers._

_"I believe you adopted me because I **beat** you," Seto took a brief moment to relish the anger that sprouted in his Step-Father's eyes before tacking on a lack-luster, "**Sir**."_

_But the smile didn't last, the pleasure was accosted by pain as his head was whipped to one side. His eyes stung and his cheek burned before his chin was jerked forwards. Livid black eyes stared down a long straight nose to meet Seto's head on._

_"Don't you ever talk back to me,_ _**boy**._"

"_Seto!_"

Seto jerked, his eyes fixing upon the wraiths that were so very close now, swarming upon them in droves. Automatically Seto stepped in front of his brother, ignoring the noise of protest that Mokuba made and fixing his eyes determinedly forwards.

Before the first of the creatures could come within meters of him there was a blinding flash of white light that tore through the fog and the night. Eyelids sealing shut in protest, Seto took an unconscious step backwards, bumping into his brother who let out a squawk of surprise and grabbed hold of Seto's waist to keep from falling.

The light seemed to grow steadily brighter, turning Seto's sight vivid red as he flinched away and a cold, commanding voice snarled out words in a long-dead language that rung in Seto's ears and made the hairs on the back of Seto's neck rise.

"_A crocodile against you in the water. A snake against you on land. You have attacked without reason, now it is Maat who will judge._" (**2**)

The light flared steadily more violent and the cold withdrew from Seto's body with a suddenness that was similar to being plunged into an ice-bath. When the light subsided his eyes cracked open, finding the fog had withdrawn from their near vicinity and standing before him, Sennen Rod in hand, was Set cloaked in a mantel of inky shadows that swirled threateningly around him.

The wraiths were retreating back into the night as they had come, driven away by the fierce spirit that stood protectively before the Kaiba brothers.

"I could not reach you," Set muttered stiffly as the Rod seemed to melt out of his hands and it grew warm against Seto's back. "Foul creatures."

Mokuba moved out from behind his elder brother to eye the Spirit with some interest mixed with approval, "What were they?"

Set turned his head away, following the vague shapes that could still be made out amidst the fog.

"_They _were what made that fog," the High Priest replied at length, his evasive answer not going unnoticed by either of the Kaiba brothers.

With a suddenness that almost made Mokuba jump sound seemed to return to their surroundings in the form of the distant whirring of turbines that ripped into the night. In the distance lights gleamed in the night sky and relief told far too plainly upon Seto's face as he lifted his eyes to watch the incoming helicopter.

"Maybe," the elder Kaiba brother murmured with a ghost of a smile, "I should give that incompetent idiot a pay rise."

* * *

Otogi wasn't entirely sure he believed what he was seeing. 

The hulking form of Rubeus Hagrid had trouble fitting in the doorway, let alone with the two unconscious figures that were slung haphazardly over each hefty shoulder, one of which was _very _familiar.

After all, Malik Ishtar was the kind of person who left a lasting impression on a guy.

The other man, a sallow-skinned and dark-haired man donning the uniform black robes that dominated Wizarding fashions, was decidedly unfamiliar to the Game Creator. Not that he took much time to look – he was far more preoccupied by the gory hunk of gold that gleamed dully in the space where a perfectly normal (if somewhat _lavender_) eye had previously occupied in the Egyptian's face.

Otogi's breath caught in his throat and he thought he might be close to gagging as he followed the multiple scarlet trails of blood down the tanned face before his eyes rose up to meet the black gaze of the Half-Giant and a familiar feeling of panic rolled through him. The only thoughts to cross his mind came spilling off of his tongue before he had any hope of stopping them.

"He's not English!"(**3**)

Hagrid's black eyes fixed in confusion upon the Game Creator who froze in place, his heartbeat accelerating rapidly as he realized that he had, _indeed_, just said that out loud and he stiffened. Doing his best to ignore the stifled snickering of the spirit of Sirius Black behind him he muttered out an incoherent, "Ishtar – he isn't English. I mean .. I don't know about the other guy, _but .._"

The Game Creator trailed off as he glanced aside and met the highly amused crystal-blue stare of Albus Dumbledore as he made his way through the open front door. "Thank you Mister Otogi," he declared cheerfully as his eyes sparkled with mirth, "You've been most helpful."

The gold embroidery in the headmaster's violet robes glittered as he caught the dim hall-light and he cast a benign smile at the confused look that Hagrid sent him. Entering behind Albus Dumbledore, Ryou Bakura was pale and blood-stained but this failed to deter the half-laughing smile that he sent Otogi's way.

"You did it," Otogi murmured, his voice containing just the right amount of surprise to make Ryou wonder briefly if he should be offended.

With a faint frown Ryou tried to surreptitiously slip the golden pendant that hung around his neck under his shirt but found that Dumbledore was now watching him with a keen gaze.

"A very useful tool," the Headmaster acknowledged aloud, observing the streak of scarlet that threaded through the white-haired boy's eyes and the contortion of his features for the briefest of moments.

"It is," Ryou replied cautiously, watching determinedly as Hagrid unceremoniously dumped the body of Rabastan Lestrange at the foot of the stairs.

"'E won't be givin' any trouble fer a while now," the half-giant declared, his stare fierce as it rested upon the former Death Eater.

"Thank you Hagrid," Dumbledore declared with a faint smile as the half-giant fished inside one of his jacket pockets and handed the Headmaster the Death Eater's wand.

The Half-Giant then proceeded to set the Egyptian down with a great deal more care, a spare few feet from the Death Eater. Ryou shuddered as the light caught the metal of the Sennen Eye and took a step backwards, pushing back the wave of hunger that rolled through him at the mere glimpse of that gold.

The Spirit of the Ring was _rarely _fare from the surface of Ryou's mind but in the presence of the Sennen Item's he was relentless.

Dumbledore was watching him, Ryou knew. So intently that the white-haired boy felt as if the old man was trying to read his thoughts there was an intelligence in those crystal blue eyes that was as dangerous as it was enigmatic.

'_Don't trust him Yadonushi_,' was the warning hiss that rolled through his mind.

Ryou was rather willing to take heed.

"I would be very interested to know why you were in the company of one of the most widely known and feared followed of the Lord Voldemort," the elderly Wizard spoke at length, polishing half-moon glasses upon his robes and watching him intently.

Ryou's eyes fixed upon the slumped waste of a man in his silk-lined once-grand but now blood-stained and tattered robes and found them oddly iconic of their owner. Rabastan Lestrange was, to the public, nothing more than a twisted shell of a man destroyed by his own hatred. Ryou, however, had seen a glimpse of something more.

The white-haired boy turned, his lips curling into a weary smile that brought a shimmer of life to brown eyes and white hair was brushed away from his face in a subconscious act.

"He helped us."

The acknowledgment was softly spoken and the white-haired boy caught the surprise that flashed across Dumbledore's face.

"_Helped yeh?_"

Hagrid's tone was nothing short of incredulous.

"Yes," Ryou replied in that same soft tone, "He assisted our escape and turned his back on this 'Dark Lord' in doing so."

The expression on Dumbledore's face was strangely closed as he slipped half-moon glasses back into place and turned to observe the still form of Rabastan Lestrange where he lay.

"A dangerous move," he mused aloud as he turned towards the stationary Otogi whose eyes were still transfixed by the gold that resided in Malik's eye socket.

Ryou felt a surge of jealousy swell in his mind and fought hard not to roll his eyes.

As silence fell between those present, the noise of the neighboring room swelled through the partially opened door and drew first Dumbledore's and consecutively the rest of the group's attention.

Otogi seemed to awaken from the daze he'd fallen into and abruptly pushed the door the remainder of the way open, bringing into view the remainder of the household sitting back in dazed silence as Molly Weasley raged and a hapless Yuugi tried to politely head her off.

When the door swung open the debate came to an abrupt halt, though this was more likely a reaction to the smile on their somewhat eccentric elderly leader's face as he swept forwards to stand in the doorway.

"_Albus_," Molly all but breathed in relief, wheeling around and sweeping forwards to greet him, "thank _goodness _you're here! I-"

Molly abruptly paused, words sticking in her throat as she caught sight of Ryou just beyond the headmaster and her eyes traversed the room, catching upon the pair of prone figures upon the entrance hall and recognizing Rabastan's robes for what they were.

"My goodness."

At the decidedly startled exclamation the remainder of the table seemed to jump up simultaneously in search of a better view.

Otogi moved hurriedly out of the door line as it was set upon and exchanged an interested look with Ryou as the boy stumbled backwards to stand beside the Game Creator.

"You brought one of the bad guys _home _with you?"

The Game Creator almost sounded impressed.

Ryou hid a smile and settled for muttering back, "He made for good entertainment before he was unconscious."

In the rush of activity Molly Weasley had advanced on the pair of unmoving figures and let out a gasp that had Ryou whipping his head around sharply. While he hadn't been paying attention, the Weasley matron had moved _far _too close to Malik to be considered physically (_or _mentally) safe.

(Un)luckily, Bakura had been far more vigilant.

"I wouldn't do that."

Contrary to the somewhat mild statement, Bakura's voice was leaden and biting. His eyes were narrowed to threatening slits and he reminded Ryou greatly of an over-grown, snarling guard-dog.

The women jumped backwards with a soft shriek upon seeing the half-transparent Tomb Robber – proving quite unequivocally that Bakura was still scary even when you could see the wooden bannister through his torso.

"_Tomb Robber_."

The Pharaoh's bitten greeting held little warmth, something which Bakura seemed oddly pleased about.

"What's going on?"

Atemu seemed decidedly on edge, a fact not helped by his question being buried under an incredulous exclamation of; "_Is that one of the Lestrange's?_"

"_Rabastan_," was the low, snarled reply via a decidedly unhappy Sirius who had moved closer to eye the unconscious form with distaste.

An angry buzzing rose through the group as the identity of the unknown figure became known.

"What's going _on?_"

Atemu struggled to be heard over the noise, crimson eyes boring into the scarlet stare of his opponent.

"I _think_," Dumbledore interrupted loudly, raising his hands for silence, "That we should all sit down and discuss this rationally. Molly – some tea?"

"Of course," she murmured in a decidedly shaken voice, backing away from the pair of slumped figures before turning to bustle her way through the clustered members of the Order back towards the kitchen.

Ryou watched her leave and turned his eyes over the clustered group with a growing feeling of trepidation in his gut. He reached the eyes of Otogi Ryuuji last as he realized just what was wrong and he turned his eyes towards the staircase as he inquired, slightly louder than he had intended, "Where's Kaiba? He should hear this."

The groups eyes turned towards the white-haired boy before turning amongst each other, those newly arrived watching as the expressions soured acutely.

"He said he's leaving," Bill acknowledged aloud at the questioning stare. "He's upstairs. I'll go and get him."

Otogi hurriedly stepped into the eldest Weasley brother's path as he made for the staircase, his lips curling into an amused smile that brought an odd expression to Bill's face.

"No need for that," Otogi declared loudly once sure that he had the full attention of the room.

"Why's that?" Bill asked sharply, attempting to move around the Game Creator towards the staircase and being blocked once again.

Green eyes gleamed with satisfaction before he dropped the final bombshell.

"Because he's already gone."

* * *

The turbines roared and whipped angrily in Seto's ears as he sat looking down upon the vast expanse of city lights. The noise made communication near impossible which Seto found himself faintly grateful for. The chill that had infected his entire being had dredged up some of his deepest and least cherished memories and unleashed as they were, they were bound to plague his thoughts. 

Blue eyes picked out the mixture of old and new buildings, focusing upon the city below in order to distract himself from more complex thoughts.

The sprawling fog encompassed most of the city now, lining the streets and shrouding their secrets in its icy curtain. Seto shifted uncomfortably in his seat and turned his gaze upwards, tracing the stars and drowning the overpowering noise of the helicopter in his thoughts.

'They won't just disappear, Omote.'

Set's voice was ridiculously audible in his mind, defying the whirring turbines in it's clarity and defying Seto's own nature by being not entirely unwelcome.

Seto's reply was suitably disdainful, carrying with it a twinge of distraction as he followed the picturesque scene that the curling fog below made of the London cityscape with a faintly interested gaze. 'What are you talking about?'

'Your memories,' was the Spirit's blunt retort, characterized by an impudent twist of good humor that made Seto scowl outwardly. 'They are a _part _of you.'

Seto's eyes rose from the sprawling city below towards the clear skies above, his voice resolute as he murmured half-aloud and half to himself, 'They are the past.'

The elder Kaiba brother felt that good humor twinge into a smile from the High Priest and was briefly surprised at how easily Set let the subject drop. Instead the Spirit moved further into the fore-front of his mind, watching the night skies with apparent interest through Seto's eyes.

'Mars is bright.'

The words washed over Seto's left air, tickling his hair before he had even realized that Set was now sitting beside him, leaning across him towards the windows. Seto was unsure whether the Spirit had spoken aloud or into his mind.

Seto did not respond, tensing in his seat and turning his head further towards the window, waiting for the Spirit to come out and say what it was that he was deliberating over.

'What are you planning to do, Omote?' he asked at last, this question definitely posed within Seto's mind.

'I will do whatever is necessary to end this.'

'Not the most detailed of plans, Omote,' Set jibed lightly, sinking back against the leather interior and casting a brief glance in Mokuba's direction as he stared down at the city. 'Do you think it wise to move in so fast with so little information?'

A spark of that same light that had been playing through Seto's eyes since they had left the House of Black ignited as he turned his stare back towards Set and an odd smile contorted his lips. 'We'll soon find out.'

Set's dark eyes shone briefly with exasperation mixed with amusement and he disappeared back into Seto's head, leaving only a brief snort of laughter to punctuate his departure.

Seto rolled his eyes.

A blur of motion nearby caught Seto's attention and he turned back towards Mokuba in time to see him yell what was quite definitely Seto's name, the sounds just faintly rising over the roar of the turbines. Upon meeting his brother's eyes Mokuba grinned widely.

"_Look!_" he half-yelled, half-mouthed.

Seto followed his brother's gesturing hand and found himself staring through the night at the magnificent towering piece of modern architecture that was Kaiba Corp London. The giant entwined '_KC_' letters were lit up against the dark night and the rivers of glass that slithered down the building to the streets below were aglow with the blinding city lights.

"_We're here!_"

Mokuba's excitement was almost tangible, most notably in that his voice was now audible over the deafening noise and Seto found himself mildly surprised to feel the thrill that burnt up his own chest upon seeing a familiar sight in a foreign city.

An odd smile twitched into place on his lips and he sank back into his own seat, fingers lightly brushing over the smooth gold of the Sennen Rod where it rested, tucked between his waistband and the cotton of his shirt. His eyes turned briefly towards Mokuba, still swamped in the folds of Seto's own white-leather coat before returning to the enticing sight that the building they were quickly advancing upon made in the cityscape.

'Here we are,' Seto mused to himself as Set peered curiously out at the building. 'Home sweet home.' (**4**)

* * *

Rabastan Lestrange knew what it was to be the proverbial sore thumb in an explosively hostile environment. 

He had, coincidentally, had more then his fair share of experience in such situations. So much so, in fact, that his groggy and disoriented mind briefly suggested that perhaps he had really just been in training all his life for this pivotal point in time.

Then, of course, the rational piece of his brain had proceeded to beat the fanciful part into figurative submission and threaten it violently with it's weapon of choice,(**5**) in a very poignant and clear warning for it to shut up.

Not that, that _really _mattered, because any which way that Rabastan looked at it, he was in deep and serious trouble.

Eyes kept firmly shut in an attempt to convince his ever present and ever nattering captors that he was still blissfully unconscious, the former Death Eater settled in to do some very fast thinking and attempt to regain feeling in his fingers.

Somewhere along the line some inconsiderate sod had bound them behind his back.

Rabastan knew that it didn't help that his mind continued to sulkily revert to wishing that he could return to unconsciousness, but found it difficult to keep this thoughts focused when the sturdy wood of the chair he was tied to continued to dig into his shoulder blades.

Fighting to keep his face peaceful the Death Eater focused firmly on the facts.

The last thing he recalled was being on a derelict London street, faced with a literal swarm of Dementors, a stolen wand that was as temperamental as it's former owner, two tired and arguably sane non-Wizarding teenagers and a half-empty beer can at his disposal.

It turned out that the wand was as much use as the beer can that he had thrown at the oncoming creatures. In fact, the cheap knock-off ale had seemed to spur the Dementors on rather than turn them away with its cheap and pungent contents. A sure sign that Rabastan's theory about Muggle alcoholic beverages was not so much a theory, as a fact.

They were, indeed, a part of a government conspiracy intended to cull the population. (**6**)

But that, was of course, completely irrelevant to his current situation.

Rabastan was aware that he had always been regarded as having something of a knack for dueling during his Hogwarts years. It was a fact that had made him rather popular amongst his fellow Slytherins as he has made an art of hoisting the residents of rivaling Houses into the air by their ankles in the most public of places.

He was the student still held responsible for discovering if Remus Lupin wore boxers or briefs.

But, for all his dueling skills, Rabastan had never been able to cast a half-way decent Patronus; something that he had always attributed to his distinct lack of good gooey feelings and _Kodak _memories. As far as he was concerned, it was a genetic fault.

The facts were, however, that after over a decade spent at the mercy of the former guards of Azkaban, Rabastan Lestrange's once prudent but rational fear of the Dementors had become something that was now best described as an intense phobia. Thus, leaving him an entirely undesirable last defense for him and his companions against the soul-sucking wraiths.

It was, he acknowledged with a barely restrained grimace, an act of some higher being (or perhaps some lower being with a cruel sense of humor) that he had escaped with his soul.

The rambling thoughts of the Death Eater came to an abrupt halt when he heard a distinct pause in the hushed murmuring that populated the corner of the room and Rabastan realized that during the course of his inner monologue he had allowed a scowl to slip over his lips. A loud disgruntled sigh escaped his mouth as he twisted against his binds, gave up and determined that his cover was, indeed, blown.

Flexing his numb fingers one more time, the former Death Eater slowly, hesitantly, cracked open his eyes and blinked rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the dim lighting.

He was set somewhere near the middle of a living area, Rabastan acknowledged as he took inventory. A wide circle around him had been cleared of any and all objects in an attempt, he imagined, to keep him from **MacGyvering** his way out of captivity. (**7**)

With a grimace Rabastan turned his attention towards the corner that he had heard the hushed talking from and suddenly wished that he could die a decent and disgraceful death, having choked on his own vomit in some anonymous back alleyway. Anything, he decided, was better than being faced with the three notorious and highly unwelcome faces that were now watching him with some manner of cruel intent.

In that moment Rabastan Lestrange realized that Malik Ishtar had _not _been joking when he had disclosed the location they were heading to: He really _was _in Hell. With the curious, condemning and Devil-be-damned _amused _faces of Albus Dumbledore, Alastor 'Mad-Eye' Moody and Severus Snape staring right back at him.

And really there were only two words in Rabastan Lestrange's vocabulary that covered such a situation.

"Oh _fuck_."

* * *

The moment that Seto Kaiba stepped off of the Helipad and took those first few steps towards the roof access, he knew that he was _home_. 

It didn't matter that Domino was thousands of miles away separated by land and water. It didn't _matter _that he had spent all of five days at Kaiba Corp London, to date. All that matter was that it was _his _- and _man _did that feel good.

"_Seto_."

Mokuba had fallen into step at his side, hiding a smile as they descended the flight of stone steps towards an oncoming swarm of panicked and frazzled employees who each wore a similar expression to a deer about to be mowed down by an SUV on the motorway. And, Mokuba mused to himself as he observed the expression on his brother's face, they probably weren't all that far from the truth.

"Yes Mokuba?"

Despite the deliberately subdued tone, Mokuba could hear the depth of warmth that lay in his brother's voice and his lips turned in a controlled smile of response as they quickly approached the horde of their employees.

"Be nice."

Seto barely put a stop to the responding smirk, blue eyes sparking briefly as they met the impish stare of his younger brother.

"Aren't I always?"

Mokuba's eyes betrayed his laughter as he redirected his stare towards the oncoming swarm of employees just as they broke tide with them. With a flash the brotherly affection was replaced with the cold discerning intimidation of a President and Vice President seizing control.

In tandem the Kaiba brothers parted the crowd. The first exclamations of, "_Kaiba sir!_" meeting with a disinterested glare and luggage being unceremoniously dumped into the speakers arms.

"Kaiba sir," was the breathless exclamation from a dark-haired man who Seto faintly recognized. His tie was askew and his face was flushed as, in his attempts to maintain Seto's attention, he half-jogged backwards down the hallway in front of them. "We weren't aware you were in the country, Sir. We would have-"

He was cut off by a dismissive jerk of Seto's hand.

"We have been in town observing the running of this office," Seto declared sharply, pointedly ignoring the way that the color drained from his employees faces.

Mokuba spared him an amused glance.

"You were not informed of our presence to ensure that practices were not altered for our benefit."

The man in front of them had begun to sweat.

Mokuba did his best to repress the urge to roll his eyes or elbow his elder brother sharply in the ribs.

"I decided that it was time that _we_ made our presence known."

Upon his conclusion Seto offered one of his very best in unsettling smirks and tilted his head, ever so slightly, in Mokuba's direction.

The man before them's eyes widened as he finally recognized Seto's companion and he stammered out a plainly horrified, "_Mokuba Sir! _- I mean, welcome."

Mokuba stretched his memory to place a name to the flustered face and replied with a courteous but suitably amused reply of, "_thank you _Jenson." (**8**)

As they walked they pushed through the stairwell doors and entered the expensive and pristine decoration of the top-most floor. This was the one floor that remained off-limits to the majority of the company's employees. Containing not only the chief office that was only ever intended for Seto's person use and the adjoining luxurious apartment suite that had yet to be put into use.

It was ridiculously expensive and a heightened sense of luxury that Seto had never really acquired the taste for, but as they strode from the hallway from the stairwell and passed the elevator shaft he found himself simply grateful for the familiarity of his company.

Even his annoying, half-asleep '_Kaiba Sir!_' employees inspired a surge of affection that was, in a word, nauseating

"Sir, hopefully everything is in order for your stay."

That cold, thin smirk was thrown carelessly back at the man who Seto remembered acutely as being the Personal Assistant to the branch's manager.

"We can only hope Jenson."

Mokuba fought against the smile that threatened his lips violently and shot a reproving glance in his brother's direction. To Seto's other side he caught a glimpse of an openly amused Set who, unnoticed by the swarm of Kaiba Corp employees, was moving amongst them in Seto's wake and listened to their hushed conversations.

As they reached the wide double-doors that led into the adjacent apartment, Seto dug the locket from beneath his shirt and swiped it through the side-lock. The doors swung open and Mokuba moved quickly through them, leaving Seto to pause, turn upon his heel and regard the halted group with a severe eye.

"_Jenson_," he snapped sharply and the man in question went rigid.

"Yes Sir?"

Seto's lips twitched against his accord as Set arched an eyebrow inquisitively at him from over the man in question's shoulder.

"Who answered the call-in?"

Jenson visibly relaxed, casting a regretful look over his shoulder and declaring smoothly, "That would be Clarke, Sir."

A lanky man with a thick thatch of ginger hair turned ashen at the back of the pack, clutching onto the luggage that had been thrust into his arms with a death grip as he stopped dead, looking very much as if he were preparing himself for the worst. (**9**)

Seto's eyes traversed the pack, catching the ginger-haired man's eyes briefly before he turned on his heel and declared loudly over his shoulder, "Give him a pay rise."

The spectating employees stared numbly at Seto's back as he moved through the doorway and moved to close the doors behind him, without warning however he paused and stuck his head back through the remaining gap, startling Jenson visibly when blue eyes locked onto him.

"-And Jenson?"

The dark-haired man stiffened and stood up straighter, "Yes Sir?"

"Nobody knows we're here. Got it?"

Jenson bit his lip and nodded his head slowly, watching as Seto's head was retracted and the doors slammed forcefully shut. On the other side of the doorway Mokuba met his brother's suddenly thoroughly amused blue stare and rolled his eyes.

"Honestly 'nii-sama – was that _really _necessary?"

"We needed a cover story," Seto replied, slipping the coat from his shoulders and tossing it over the back of one of the sleek, black leather couches.

"You _nearly _gave Jenson a heart attack!" Mokuba replied with a barely restrained snort of laughter as Seto continued through the living area and disappeared through an archway.

"The man could _do _with a good heart attack," was Set's drawled declaration as he strode promptly through the closed doors and flopped down unceremoniously on the couch, eyeing Mokuba through dark eyes. "It would make him a great deal more exciting."

Mokuba's second attempt at restraining his laughter was as successful as his first. Through his snickering he managed to throw out, "He's not _that _bad."

"If he was he wouldn't be so _dull_," Set replied with a flourishing smirk as the younger Kaiba slung himself across a matching leather armchair and cast a glowing look around the visible apartment.

It was a polar opposite to the gloomy House of Black.

Modern, spacious and luxuriously decorated in black, white and splashes of vivid blue. But, more importantly, it was fully and completely hooked up to the most advanced technology that the world had to offer.

Seto reappeared through one of the connecting arches, his face dripping with water and looking far more at home than he had since the day that seemed an age ago when they had been ripped abruptly form Domino Park and their everyday lives.

That fact alone brought a brighter smile to Mokuba's face.

"So what's the plan now, 'nii-sama?"

Seto's eyes rose to his brother's face, his lips curling in a decidedly good humored smile as he brushed dripping chestnut hair from his eyes.

"Now," he declared in a voice filled with open determination, "We show Fudge what a big mistake he made in _ever _targeting us."

Set's eyes gleamed as they turned towards the ceiling and Mokuba's smile turned into a grin.

The hesitant sound of knocking at the door brought Seto's eyes towards it and an equally hesitant and muffled voice calling out made him grimace.

"_Kaiba Sir?_"

When silence greeted his question the unmistakable voice of Jenson called out again, "Sir, it's just, you left your luggage with _us _Sir."

Mokuba sat up in his chair to look towards the door, eyebrows raising as Seto snapped back a decidedly harsh, "Just leave it by the door, Jenson."

Exasperated looks were exchanged between the Kaiba brothers and Set's smirk quirked faintly, dark eyes gleaming.

"I'm telling you, a heart attack would do him _wonders._"

* * *

Yuugi Mutou was sure he had never had a more stressful night in the entirety of his _life._

Seto Kaiba's sudden declaration of his departure had been the first of many blows to be taken that night and now, as he stared numbly over a steaming cup of tea that he had no intention whatsoever of drinking at a perfectly cheerful Ryuuji Otogi, Yuugi found himself wondering if his entire life was somebody else's ridiculous dream and if they were enjoying it.

At his side Ryou was eyeing Otogi with a similar look of perplexity, as though trying to determine _why _the Game Creator was so entertained by the obvious distress of the household. But then again, Yuugi acknowledged with a frown, Ryou was intimately acquainted with the Tomb Robber and _he _had found the Kaiba brother's departure through their bedroom window hilarious.

Thus the group had found themselves ushered into the dining area and seated firmly at a table as if to prevent any further dramas from enfolding.

The still unconscious Malik had been propped into a chair and now lay face-first upon the dining room table, barely inches from the plate of stale biscuits that been set out for their benefit.

The present members of the Order had taken to staring alternately at Malik and Ryou, as though by merely watching them they could discover the secrets as to why they had arrived with one of the members of the nefarious Lestrange family in tow. As it was the Death Eater had been taken aside, bound to a chair and was now under the watch of three of the Order's heavyweights.

Yuugi could feel the tension in the air building, not helped by the fact that Otogi would smile widely whenever any of the members of the Order shot an irritable look in his direction.

Molly Weasley sat ashen faced at the head of the table, her fingers clutching a now cold cup of tea as she stared blankly at the wallpaper. She hadn't spoken a word since she had discovered the Kaiba brother's grand escape. Yuugi was privately thankful for the break.

When he could no longer stand the silence Yuugi abruptly spoke, snapping the rest of the table to attention and turning their eyes upon him. "Is Malik going to be alright?"

As if shaking dew from his thoughts Remus Lupin shook his head before declaring in a slightly hoarse voice, "Dementors can cause a tremendous amount of mental stress, but if they were unable to get close enough to remove his soul, as Professor Dumbledore says, he should be fine. We'll just give him some chocolate when he wakes up."

Not noticing the confusion that raced across Yuugi's face at the mention of chocolate, Lupin offered a vague smile and made to sip at his tea. Upon realizing that it had grown cold he grimaced and set it back upon the table.

With that Ryou seemed to realize something, his eyes widening briefly before he whipped his head around towards Yuugi and spoke rapidly, startling those who had been watching him so intently with his sudden movements. "Yuugi, there is something I have to tell you."

The King of Games barely contained his surprise, instead smiling widely at the prospect of finally having information volunteered to him and replying in a reassuring voice, "Of course."

Ryou grimaced at the decidedly nasty slur that Bakura muttered through his mind and cast it aside, fixing a serious stare upon his face and murmuring sharply, "We have a problem with Malik."

"Don't we always?" Otogi intoned boredly and was met with a grimace from Yuugi and a twitch of lips from Ryou.

"Do you remember Battle City?" Ryou inquired carefully and watched as Otogi flinched visibly and Yuugi's eyes briefly flashed crimson.

"How could I _not?_" The King of Games replied with a rueful smile and a shake of his head, "It isn't exactly the kind of thing one _forgets _in a hurry."

All too aware of the curious eyes that surrounded the table Ryou was careful in choosing his words, licking his dry lips absently as he murmured carefully, "We have a _Finals _situation."

With a flash Yuugi was gone and Atemu was in control, crimson eyes flashing with a whole range of conflicting emotions as he snarled out slightly sharper then he had intended, "That isn't possible. I _sealed _that thing away."

A low rasping laugh reverberated through the room from just behind Ryou's chair and the white-haired boy jumped, surprised by the Tomb Robber's sudden appearance even as he sneered out a taunting, "Because that worked _so _well for you in the past, Pharaoh."(**10**)

Atemu grimaced visibly and shot a dark look in Bakura's direction before dismissing him in favor of focusing upon the more reasonable of the pair.

"It is still a part of him," Ryou murmured back, his soft voice oddly compelling as he settled a slightly narrowed brown stare upon the Pharaoh. "I doubt he will _ever _be free of it."

Atemu's stare sharpened further, bordering on incredulous as he murmured, "You didn't seal it, did you?"

"No," Bakura snarled back in his host's place, eyes gleaming scarlet as he pushed himself into the Pharaoh's eye line, "It's time that Ishtar dealt with his _own _problems."

Ryou hid the faint smile that came unbidden to his face with a hurried straightening of his lips.

"In Battle City," Atemu replied, his voice smoothing into a more controlled tone though obviously dubious, "The only one who could control that side of him was Rishiid. How do you expect to stop him if he loses control and how many people are going to get hurt in the process?"

The white-haired boy spoke up sharply, his tone edged with an irritation that was not often heard, "He is _fighting _it. If he can overcome it himself then all the better for him."

"And if he can't?"

A single dark eyebrow rose challengingly, Atemu's eyes gleaming as they met Ryou's own stare.

"Then we're in trouble," Ryou replied unflinchingly.

Atemu eyed the white-haired boy sharply before surrendering control back to his host. Yuugi in return met Ryou's stare head-on.

"He can beat it," Yuugi affirmed softly, though whether he sought to convince Atemu or himself was unclear. The unspoken whisper of '_can't he?_' lingered all too clearly in his violet eyes.

Ryou smiled faintly and glanced aside, glancing towards Otogi and finding that the Game Creator was otherwise distracted. With a suddenness that caught Ryou off guard, Otogi's eyes returned to meet his and then Yuugi's and he murmured in a tone that wasn't half as amused as it had been earlier. "I think that we're about to find out."

Yuugi's eyes followed Otogi's stare as it returned to the Egyptian, watching as he slowly stirred into waking.

Consciousness came quickly and sharply to the Egyptian and he took in his surroundings in vague confusion, registering the faces in a haze before meeting first Ryou's then Yuugi's faces. The world seemed to jolt into place suddenly, even as he registered the wary green stare of Otogi Ryuuji and the group of Wizards and Witches that surrounded him.

With a desperation that came from a profound lack of _time _that he didn't entirely understand Malik staggered to his feet, eyes returning to fix upon Yuugi with an intent that he wasn't entirely sure the meaning of. It was _important _he knew, important that somebody else should be here.

He was talking, Malik realized with some surprise, considering he hadn't _noticed _that he was using his tongue, reciting words that were _important. _

"_In the moments when light and dark collide, morning, noon and night are as one._"

Malik paused, shaking away the shadowy hold that had taken him over with a visible effort and stood, shaken, before a wide-eyed Yuugi whose hand was clutched firmly over the Puzzle at his chest. With effort he smiled, raising his fingers to brush against his temples as he took a step backwards from the host of the Pharaoh, all too aware of the menacing laughter that echoed in his thoughts.

Whispers of blood and shadow and murder tickled his ears, spurred on by the being that was playing cat and mouse with his every waking moment.

"It's _important_," Malik muttered irritably, rubbing at his temples with more vigor as Yuugi looked up at him, mouth forming the inquiry to his health that the Egyptian was unable to focus upon.

"What's important?" The King of Games murmured, turning briefly towards Ryou whose own expression was just as puzzled.

"_You_," Malik replied with a smile as he took another step backwards, holding his eyes firmly away from the glisten of gold at Yuugi's chest.

"He was fine," Ryou murmured with a furrowed brow as he rose to his feet, "Before we got here, he was fine."

"The Dementors," Otogi replied stiffly, ignoring the glance of surprise that Yuugi sent in his direction. "They change you."

"The power of the Gods," the Egyptian crooned to himself in a barely audible voice, singular lavender eye gleaming as it fixed upon the Puzzle at Yuugi's chest. "The Gods."(**11**)

As Atemu surged into control the Egyptian seemed to snap out of his daze, his fingers trembling as they raked through blood-stained blonde hair and he let out a shaky laugh and lent against the back wall.

"I can't control _him_," Malik whispered his voice hoarse as his single eye squeezed tightly shut, the _Udjat _in the left gleaming dully in the light. "Not around _you_, not now. You have to stop me."

The tables occupants watched in morbid fascination as he slithered down the wall to sit in a heap at it's base upon the floor, legs crumpling beneath him and lavender eye fixed firmly upon Atemu, pleading for help that the Egyptian's pride wouldn't let him give voice to.

Ryou met the Pharaoh's eyes with a sharp stare of his own, one of warning that was eerily alike that the Tomb Robber wore. The Pharaoh seemed to pause in deliberation, eyes fixed upon the crumpled figure of the Egyptian before turning towards the staring and confused Wizards with conviction.

"Tie him up," Atemu commanded sharply, "Restrain him like you did with the Wizard in there."

The Pharaoh's head jerked in the direction of the doorway.

Ryou's eyes gleamed with approval and Malik slowly staggered back to his feet, his stare fixing upon the Pharaoh with confusion. "You have to _stop _me," he snarled in frustration, fingers entwining in his hair.

Atemu returned the stare solemnly, "I'm not going to make it that easy for you Ishtar, you're going to beat this yourself."

Hurt and frustration rose visibly in the Egyptian's singular lavender eye and he moved back to his chair, taking in the line of faces that watched him with confusion and fear. He couldn't _do _this again.

Reaching his chair he sat, his hands trembling as they settled upon his knees and with the suddenness of realization his head shot up. A lavender stare scanned the table intently with a growing gnawing feeling of horror before he met Atemu's stare, his focus for the first time entirely clear.

"Where's Kaiba?"

* * *

**Footnotes:  
1. **-cackles- That was my; "_We walk in the garden of his turbulence!_" moment.  
**2. **Set's curse at the Dementors is based on a curse that was inscribed in the tomb of _Meni. _The original curse went as follows; "_A Crocodile against him in the water. A Snake against him on the land. He will do something against that one. At no time did I do anything against him. It is God who will judge._" It _is _important that Set reverts to the Ancient ways when he and Seto and Mokuba are threatened. Trust me.  
**3**. Okay, I promise. This is the _last _cheesy Giant joke .. Of the chapter that is.  
**4**. C'mon guys, bust out those lighters and sing it with me; "_I'm on my waaaayyy, Homeee sweeeet homeee._" Ahh dear, _Crue _nostalgia.  
**5. **It's weapon of choice was, for interest's sake, a Mace.  
**6**. Rabastan's theory on Muggle alcohol may come up again in future chapters but it's basis actually came from one of those Religious Cult-ish pamphlets that get stuffed in our mailbox every now and again, I occasionally read them to amuse myself and stumbled across one that claimed immunization was the governments way of culling the population. It stuck with me for all the wrong reasons.  
**7**. If you don't know who MacGyver is, you've led a sad and sheltered life. You have my pity.  
**8**. -cackles- Yes, the first appearance of _Jenson_, who I have _far _too much background information of for someone of such little significance (and when I say little, I mean next to none) to the story line. If you're at all interested, or in fact, if you are completely uninterested I shall be posting the ridiculous details of _Jenson_'s life in the forum under the Characterization category I believe, simply because it serves as a form of great entertainment to me and it shall better your understanding of the poor fellow.  
**9**. I have an unfortunate habit for Cruelty to the Ginger Populace, something that I am not proud of and have thus tried to rectify in giving Clarke a pay-rise. If anyone wishes more for more information on Clarke, they're hopes are far too high for the poor guy.  
**10. **Oh, how I _do _love it when Bakura is right. But Atemu's tendency to seal things away and have them come flying back to hit him where it hurts isn't really all that uncommon. It's what we call _The Boomerang Effect_.  
**11.** Big, blinding hint alert.

* * *

**AN: **I have had the most fun writing this chapter since I concluded the Malik!Lawyer phase, simply because _A. _I got to introduce _Jenson! _And _B_. The scenes that I've been _waiting _to write for Rabastan's character are finally here. So much fun to be had, so little time to have it in. I'm almost giddy! Anyway, hopefully you all enjoy the chapter and thank you _all _for your darling reviews.

* * *

"_For the past seven years I have done nothing but travel around the world  
getting shot up, locked up, blown up...  
And all I have to show for it are a couple of empty rolls of duct tape._"


	30. The Eye of the Storm

**Book One of Eight;**

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**-Chapter Twenty** **Nine-  
**The Eye of the Storm.

_-Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus-_

* * *

Seto wasn't quite sure when the rain first started falling. 

Mokuba's glee at once again being in possession of a television had prompted his older sibling to retreat inwards to muffle the blaring sounds of staged gunfire and exaggerated accents, making it difficult to determine just _when _it had started .. And to be quite honest, he wasn't sure why it mattered.

Seto Kaiba was not, and never had been, the type of person to account natural phenomena to the work of some higher power. To him, determining that _rain _was a sign of bad things to come was about as rational as skipping over every crack on the sidewalk. In short, _not very._ It was pure superstition, he had always insisted.

So why it _mattered _that it was raining, he couldn't quite account for.

But it did.

Seto drew his eyes slowly from the full-length windows with a visible strain, unable to determine just what it was about the rivers of water that coursed down the dark glass that bothered him.

'_It doesn't feel right_,' he concluded.

For a full minute Seto mulled the concept over in his mind, his frown deepening as blue eyes turned, once again, to the window before he scoffed. _Loudly_.

Mokuba jumped, his head whipping sharply towards his elder brother in evident surprise.

Seto failed to notice. _His _lips had twisted in a derisive sneer that was reflected back at him in the dark glass.

"I'm turning into a superstitious old woman," Seto grumbled beneath his breath.

Long fingers brushed strands of hair from his eyes and the sneer was replaced by an odd smile as Set abruptly moved into Seto's eye-line. The Spirit was clearly suspicious upon seeing Seto's expression, his dark eyes narrowing and arms folding across his chest.

"I suppose I have _you _to thank for that," Seto announced, his scathing declaration taking the Spirit by complete surprise.

"Gratitude from _you_, omote?"

Set's eyebrows danced upwards, his skepticism made complete by the twitch of laughter at his lips.

"To what do I owe this great honor?"

The elder Kaiba stood slowly, stretching his long limbs experimentally before meeting Set's eyes directly as he replied. "Your ridiculous superstitions, of course. Your stupidity appears to be contagious."

Mokuba, attention instinctively drawn by real-life drama, winced accordingly and suppressed a grin at Set's taken aback expression. Even with close contact over long periods of time it was still often hard to believe how quickly Seto could jump from meditative contemplation to scathing sarcasm when he felt like it.

Set, however, was naturally predisposed to recover quickly from such jibes. He figured it had been the Gods way of recompensing him for sticking him with such a Reincarnation.

"Am I to assume that that vacant expression you were wearing was actually a sign that you were _thinking_ then omote? I have to tell you, you had even me fooled."

The feigned expression of surprise on Set's face did little to fool Seto who let out a short burst of obligatory laughter, his eyes fixed on Set with unnerving intensity the entire time.

"Tell me Set, as our resident expert on all things unnatural and superstition – what are we to expect from this sudden shower?"

Seto's words were spoken in sardonic jest and his eyes glittered with a veil of mockery, but Set noted the curious clenching of his reincarnation's jaw with a knowing frown. Seto would never admit it, but he was convinced that there was something on the way.

Lips curling in a smile that mirrored Seto's own, Set turned towards the window.

"Rain was said to come from _Seth _himself," the High Priest recited, aware of Seto's eyes following him as he took several more steps towards the window.

"_Seth _ruled over many things, from darkness and night to chaos and war," Set's lips quirked faintly as he turned back to the face Seto.

"_But_," eyebrows twitched upwards to match the amused gleam in the High Priest's dark eyes. "I would hardly assume that a _bit _of rain constitutes as a sign from the Gods. A _storm _maybe .." (**1**)

Seto laughed again, though the edge of uneasiness was now replaced by earnest amusement. Not that Seto would ever admit it.

The High Priest's lips quirked in response, watching Seto turn back to the television and grimace upon finding it the same old Western that had driven his attention astray earlier.

With a departing nod to his younger brother, Seto stood and moved towards his bedroom. Set, however, hesitated. Glancing over his shoulder at the streaming window with a twist of trepidation curling through his insides.

With a shake of his head he followed Seto, casting a brief glance at the younger Kaiba as he gave an appreciative whoop of appreciation at the on screen action.

As the door snapped shut behind Set he wondered if the feeling of trepidation in his gut meant more than the simple anxiety of watching Seto grapple head-on with his own destiny.

What it was, Set didn't know. He only hoped that it wouldn't turn out to be as ugly as everything else that was currently standing in Seto's path.

Set shook himself free of thought as Seto turned to regard him.

"Are you sure you are ready to face them, omote?"

A cock-sure Kaiba smirk was all the proof that Seto seemed to believe he _needed _and somehow Set knew, that no matter _what _was thrown at them, Seto Kaiba would find a way to succeed or die trying.

Because Seto Kaiba was a _winner _and that was all that mattered.

Set nodded once, watching as Seto flicked open his laptop and sank onto the lavish comfort of his custom-made bed.

And somewhere in the distance, the thunder rolled.

* * *

If one were faced with the task of asking Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody what was wrong with the world he lived in, he was liable to give one of four answers. 

The first, and most common, answer was retirement. As far as Moody was concerned, age and rapidly disappearing appendages should have no bearing on his ability to sniff out evil a mile way and throw it away in a damp and pungent cell.

The next answer you were likely to receive was the general lack of adherence to elementary wand safety by the newest generation of Wizards and Witches. And no, no matter _how _many times a certain upstart Auror would ask, he would always refuse to disclose just _who _had lost his buttock to make this such an issue.

The third answer he was likely to disclose was far more predictable: _Death Eaters_.

For those who knew him it was of little surprise that this would rank so highly amidst what he thought was wrong with the world. For the length and breadth of his illustrious career he had dealt with the atrocities committed by the followers of the Dark Lord and so, he had come to regard those branded with the Dark Mark as something akin to the scum that one found upon the bottom of their shoe (or wooden claw, as it may be) after strolling through a dog walker's park.

His final answer was comparatively simple to those that preceded it, and thus was far less likely to be divulged. The fact was, however, that Alastor Moody quite simply _hated _riddles.

It was often supposed that a man who chose a career in Magical Law Enforcement was a man who _enjoyed_ the prospect of a good mystery, and for many an Auror it may have been true. But for Alastor Moody it was quite the opposite (he very rarely enjoyed the prospect of _anything_.) He had always said that if he had wanted a career in Riddles and Mysteries, he would have merrily trundled down to the Department of Mysteries and become an Unspeakable and that, was _that_.

No, Alastor Moody's decision to become an Auror had _not_ been founded on some romanticized dream of becoming the magical world's answer to _Sherlock Holmes._ _His_ career choice had held a significantly more substantial basis ..

_He_ had wanted to catch the bad guys.

It was a fact that was little known and Mad Eye certainly intended to keep it that way. He shuddered to think what a_ certain _upstart Auror would say if she discovered _that _particular sentiment. (**2**)

Unfortunately for Moody, he was currently in the face of someone that represented two of four of his least favourite things in the world, and that particular person seemed stubbornly determined to remain precisely that. After all, Rabastan Lestrange wasn't known for his obliging nature.

Now, Moody had met and interviewed more than his fair share of Death Eater's in his lengthy career. But, he'd be damned if any of them were anything _close_ to as infuriating as the younger Lestrange brother.

.. And the insolent git was _smirking _at him.

With a barely restrained growl Moody clunked forwards, fixing his magical (and therefore, _unnatural_ and highly intimidating) eye upon their captive. Ignoring the mild glance of surprise that this garnered from Dumbledore and the grimace from Snape, his jagged mouth twisted into a nasty sneer.

Mad Eye was not insensitive to the distinctly off-putting impression his battle-scarred appearance had on those who weren't acquainted with him (and many who _were_.) He had always secretly enjoyed the particular shade of green others would turn if he rolled his eye just so. But it was quickly made clear that over a decade spent in Azkaban had made Rabastan Lestrange perfectly indifferent to even Moody's fiercest of facial expressions. Instead of the slow widening of eyes and dropping of the jaw that Alastor was accustomed to inspiring, he instead had a prime view of dark eyebrows wiggling jauntily over taunting dark eyes.

What Mad Eye did not have the privilege of knowing, as those mocking eyes fixed upon him, was that in a roundabout way their battle strategy was beginning to work.

With two gifted _Legilimens _and a talented Ex-Auror (with a magical eye) the Order was well equipped to deal with even the most stout-hearted and loyal of the Dark Lord's followers, and Rabastan Lestrange was neither.

Rabastan's refusal to answer their questions came not as a byproduct of lingering loyalty towards the man that he had so faithfully served (and been incarcerated) for. It was rather a byproduct of the inevitable spite that being in the presence of one Severus Snape encouraged.

In truth, the rhythmic pattern of the interrogation was exceedingly well played. Alternating between the 'in your face' Ex-Auror's style, to Severus Snape's very own brand of acid-tongued provocation and sneers, to Albus Dumbledore's benign smiles and hidden traps.

Rabastan found it a technique that he might have folded to if there wasn't one simple fact that stilled the truth upon the tip of his tongue. Severus Snape was, quite simply, a greasy git. Some might contend that this was _not _a valid flaw in the rhythm of his interrogator's strategy. Rabastan, however, knew for a fact that it _was._

"Mr. Lestrange-"

The sight of the mild smile and sparkling crystal eyes in place of Moody's disfigured face came as some surprise to Rabastan who suddenly realized he had not been paying attention for quite some time.

"I was never able to truly comprehend why you joined Voldemort's cause, Rabastan. I remember you showing a particular individuality of mind at Hogwarts that I found an ill fit with Voldemort's ideals."

Rabastan's eyes rose briefly, cautiously avoiding the Headmaster's stare with the studied diligence of a man that had been long in the service of a talented _Legilimens _before he retorted with an easy laugh. "It was the tattoo, Sir. All of the cool kids had them."

Dumbledore's lips twinged in a small, obliging smile that denied the proffered bait, and pressed on. Blue eyes intently searching the Death Eater's face in an attempt to close in upon the elusive stare. "Why _did_ you help them escape Rabastan?"

The Death Eater's lips turned in another unconvincing smile and his fingers flexed convulsively as he strained against his binds. "Those crazy kids promised me we'd get out on the road, sight-see, hit the town. I'm a sucker for an adventure, Sir."

Moody growled incomprehensibly and Rabastan's smile deepened.

"And how have you _liked_ the sights, Rabastan?"

Dumbledore's face was poised, eyes gleaming with traces of amusement as Rabastan's eyes flickered sharply in his direction. Dumbledore's voice was brisk and stripped of his good-natured humor as he resumed his questioning now, leaning forwards in his seat to further the eye-contact that he had achieved.

"Your stories _are_ colorful, Rabastan, but it is the truth that I am looking for. Did Voldemort command you to let them escape?"

Rabastan tore his gaze away sharply, lips curling in an ugly sneer that was made all the uglier by the snarl in his voice. "If he did, would I tell you?"

"You aren't the noble, loyal _type_, Lestrange," was the cold sneer from Snape as he watched him with a perverse amount of pleasure lingering in the depths of his eyes. "No need to go changing your spots _now._"

The Death Eater laughed loudly, an ugly sound that grated against the ear-drums and caused the ropes that coiled around his chest to grow painfully tight. Mahogany eyes met Snape's own for the first time since the interrogation had begun without the fear of betraying his tongue and lips curled in a smile that laid bare his yellowed teeth.

"Three words for you, _Snivellus_; Pot. Kettle. Black."

The gleam in Snape's eyes vanished, followed by the paling of his face and tightening of his lips that marked a legitimate hit.

When the triumph had faded, Moody was once again prowling near his chair, his magical eye swiveling painfully fast in it's socket. Rabastan watched him intently, curious as to why the Ex-Auror was silent until that eye suddenly stopped dead.

Triumph dissolved in an instant into something that spoke volumes of dread. _It _was fixed on his pocket, he realized, a pocket that contained several items that would be of intense interest to those gathered here.

And the _last _thing that Rabastan wanted to be at present was an _interesting _Death Eater.

With an ungainly clunking Moody was suddenly in very close proximity, pulling at Rabastan's robes jerkily to retrieve three items from Rabastan's pocket that he was suddenly _very _uncomfortable about being in the possession of the Order of the Phoenix.

The first was the glowing prophecy orb that had been his constant companion (and paperweight) for the past few months. The second was the solitary playing card that singularly imprisoned his elder brother's soul. And last, but certainly not least, was the depleted remnants of his cigarette supply in a battered and beaten carton.

The cigarette carton, however, proved far less interesting to his captors, tossed aside for later inspection. The Ex-Auror's eyes, instead, fixed upon the prophecy orb. Recognition burned in Snape's eyes and he swept forwards without a second thought.

The final item, however, is what inevitably ensnared both Wizards attentions and made the feeling of dread in Rabastan's chest expand painfully with ten simple words.

"Dumbledore, I think you should take a look at this."

* * *

Gone. 

Kaiba was gone.

He didn't _need _to hear it spoken on those hesitant tongues, the message already paraded through his mind with the subtlety of a brass marching band and the regularity of a jack-hammer.

_They _didn't know what it meant, and _Gods_, how could he tell them?

The whispers of their minds drained in silver through the cracks and crevices of his own, each and every one laden with anxiety and fear.

Oh, how _afraid _they all were!

What did it matter that Kaiba was gone? Kaiba was a puppet in the hands of Destiny just as the rest of them .. _He _simply refused to see the strings.

What good would a warning do _now?_

'_He wouldn't've believed you,_' was the crooning chocolate-coated whisper.

Liar.

'_But you helped, little bird. You forget to easily._'

And what did it _matter _if he had listened? If he had tread the paths set down by a Mystic and a Fraud and a _Liar _and a Cheat. What did it matter if he had followed orders like a child?

"I didn't _know_," he murmured, fingers digging into the depths of matted blond and gripping tight. "I didn't _know_."

Their whispers grew louder, not whispers any longer, now screams. The confusion of their minds leaking into _his_.

'_The end_,' the voice in his head crooned happily.

_He _was pleased. _He _liked the darkness and the fear and the hate.

A hand upon his arm.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his gaze. Meeting concerned amethyst eyes that hid curiosity and more fear.

"I didn't know," he pleaded.

Those amethyst eyes remained, concerned.

"I didn't _know_." (**3**)

* * *

The very moment that Alastor 'Mad Eye' Moody's eyes closed upon that innocent-looking playing card, Rabastan _knew _that he was headed for trouble. 

He had been privy to interrogations before, more than he cared to remember, truth be told, and the moment that a spark of interest was introduced was generally when things started to turn ugly.

It was the fierce, fighting gleam that had shone in Frank Longbottom's eyes, the nervous hitch that had shook in his wife's frantic denials .. They were the signs that had drawn _her _interest. There were the mysteries that had translated as _knowledge _to her mind, and Rabastan could see it in _their _eyes now. (**4**)

They were interested.

Subtly he twisted his wrists against their binds, smoothing his face of his thoughts as the battle-scarred Ex-Auror muttered quietly to the frowning Albus Dumbledore. The knots did not give, though he hadn't _expected _they would. He was not dealing with amateurs. Had he not known them by name, face and reputation the way that they conducted themselves made it clear enough.

Rabastan was not surprised when Dumbledore was the first to resume questioning. With a piercing stare that brooked no defiance and a serene twitch of his lips, the elderly Wizard set in upon him. His voice was light and conversational as he spoke, "Do you often carry a portrait of your brother with you Rabastan?"

The question brought the slightest of smiles to Rabastan's lips, soon spoiled by the overflow of sarcasm that saturated his response. "Never leave home without it."

Dumbledore's eyes shimmered briefly over half-moon glasses and he rearranged himself in his chair, silver eyebrows twitching upwards as he replied, "I wasn't aware that you were so close, Mr. Lestrange. I recall a _number_ of incidents while you were at Hogwarts that suggested otherwise."

For the briefest of moments the calculative gleam in the Death Eater's eyes dulled and his expression tightened. "He was my brother."

If Dumbledore noticed a change in Rabastan's demeanor he did not acknowledge it, instead moving on as if Rabastan had made no reply at all. "Curious, isn't it? How you look so much alike but are so very different."

The conversational manner that Dumbledore talked in was suddenly grating across every last one of Rabastan's nerves and he bit back a reply, settling for watching as Dumbledore's long fingers turned the card over and over between them. The flashes of his brothers pallid, staring face burning into his eyes.

"Your brother was always very conventional, I recall. He never did anything to draw undue attention to himself, kept his lesser behaviors below the notice of the staff and always behaved exactly as he was expected to. _You,_ on the other hand Mr. Lestrange, always delighted in defying the expectations of others."

Despite the whimsical tone of Dumbledore's voice the Death Eater was well aware that he was under careful surveillance. This was simply a new set of tactics and Rabastan was determined to remain unfazed by it.

"I suppose that is why it surprised me to learn that you had become a Death Eater."

The ever-watchful eyes of Albus Dumbledore were rewarded by a jerk of Rabastan's left arm against its bindings.

The Death Eater's head snapped up as he replied, tongue laden with acid. "Whatever else you may have thought of me, Professor, I was _always_ a Slytherin. I saw what I wanted and I did what I had to do to get it."

"I'm _well _aware of what you are, Mr. Lestrange," Dumbledore replied with the warmth draining rapidly from his tone, just fast enough to shoot up a warning flare through Rabastan's mind. "Earlier this evening there was an attack over in the West Country. It's suspected that Giants were involved .. Perhaps you might enlighten us as to _what _inspired such an attack?"

Albus Dumbledore was convinced that he must have mistaken Rabastan's response.

It had _sounded _far too much like the Death Eater had said, "Perhaps he discovered his brand new _doll _collection."

The impish smile on Rabastan's lips wasn't helping the matter.

When Dumbledore leveled a stern stare upon his former pupil instead of the anticipated confusion, Rabastan's smile dissolved into a petulant sneer and he snapped.

"Do you _really _think that I could return to the Dark Lord's service _now? _I would be dead before I could even speak! I thought you understood the Dark Lord better than _that._"

"Oh, I understand that all too well, Mr. Lestrange."

Rabastan regarded the serene expression of his former Headmaster with some confusion, his anger slipping in the wave of curiosity as Dumbledore's lips turned in a smile.

"What I do _not _understand is how you were able to escort both Mr. Ishtar and Mr. Bakura to freedom in an act of open defiance to Voldemort and _not_ be on the receiving end of that immediate death."

Realization sparked in the Death Eater's mind and he could have laughed for the simplicity of it all. _They _thought it had been too easy.

"Why don't you ask the white-haired kid," he sneered with a touch of relief taking the bite out of his tone. "_He's _the one with the nifty glowing necklace."

"I shall question Mr. Bakura in due time of course," Dumbledore conceded with an obscure smile. "At present I am _far _more interested in whether you escaped from that hide-out or if you were set free."

Rabastan found himself grimacing as he answered, his voice beleaguered with the distaste of having to acknowledge the obvious as his eyes rolled towards the inflamed wound that crossed his right cheek courtesy of Bellatrix's wand. "I should think that it was fairly obvious that I did not leave with the Dark Lord's best wishes for my health and happiness."

"If I were certain, Mr. Lestrange, I would not take the trouble of asking."

Rabastan's lips tightened and he turned his eyes away from his former Headmaster as if in anticipation of what was to come.

"You see, Rabastan, the last time I laid eyes upon you, you were in no position to desert Voldemort's ideals. Even when faced with his supposed death you were willing to torture two good people into madness for the hope that they might know where your _Lord _was. You'll forgive me for being skeptical."

Dumbledore's eyes were so hard and abrasive when Rabastan rose his own stare to meet them that he flinched visibly. His voice was low and decidedly subdued when he replied, "the Dark Lord did not order me to allow the prisoner to escape."

Dumbledore nodded, seemingly satisfied on some level before he continued, voice unflinchingly hard now. "But that does not explain _why _you did it."

In a brave attempt at his usual calm he dropped his eyes from Dumbledore's face and drawled back, "Perhaps I was frightened of them."

But to Rabastan's dismay his former Headmaster seemed incapable of discerning sarcasm from honesty and spoke with that same overwhelming severity that made Rabastan feel like he was in fifth year and had just hoisted Remus Lupin upside down by his ankle in the Great Hall again.

"And _what _cause would you have to be frightened of two _Muggle _teenagers, Mr. Lestrange?"

The Death Eater gave a cold, harsh laugh and his eyes rolled. "They are _hardly _Muggles, Sir."

Dumbledore's eyes rose upwards, his lips turning for the first time in one of those _knowing _smiles that made Rabastan's insides squirm as replied, his voice softening gradually. "They have never received a magical education, Mr. Lestrange. They are certainly not _Wizards _in any shape or form."

"There are older and scarier things than _Wizards _in this world, _Sir._" Rabastan sneered back, his eyes firmly averted as he muttered, "the _Dark Lord _does not have the power to seal a man's soul into a child's toy or a _playing _card"

It took a moment before Dumbledore's eyes darted to the card in his hands, surprise evident in his faze as he turned it's face to his eyes.

A dark smile quirked across Rabastan's lips as Dumbledore's eyes rose to stare at him. "Say hello to Rodolphus," he drawled out, "I think I like him better that way. He isn't _nearly _as judgmental."

In the background Snape's expression changed significantly, changing from pure distaste to mild interest as he swept forwards to get a better look.

"How did this happen?"

The surprise was evident in Dumbledore's voice.

"The blond kid took his pretty new eye for a joy-ride," Rabastan retorted, ignoring Moody's roving stare at it settled upon him.

The Ex-Auror's voice was a low growl as he clunked forwards, "What do you _mean _his 'eye'?"

It was as if the former Auror could _smell _the crack in the Death Eater's well-conditioned armor and could not contain his curiosity.

"His _eye. _His solid _sodding _gold, glowing, magical _eye._"

Rabastan's lips curled in distaste and he turned his eyes to the walls, the ceiling, anywhere but the three curious faces in front of him, until he could draw upon his reserve of contemptuous attitude. It only took moments but Rabastan knew that he had lost another few inches in this tug-o'-war for information.

".. _Damn _do I need a cigarette."

Flaunting his best Boy Scout smile and trying not to look half the wreck that he felt like, Rabastan turned his eyes hopefully towards his former Headmaster. Dumbledore, however, paid him no attention. Crystal eyes were fixed on the wide motionless stare of Rodolphus Lestrange.

"Mr. Ishtar did this ..?"

The effort that it took for the Headmaster to tear his eyes from the card was almost painful to Rabastan to watch.

"Him or whatever demon is currently _possessing _him," the Death Eater sneered back before attempting to turn the conversation with a bluntness that showed just how much he had been worn down. "_Now, _about that cigarette .."

But keeping Dumbledore's attention was like trying to hold onto grains of sand and Rabastan found that it was gone again, leaving Rabastan to the awkward silence that Snape and Moody provided and the inner ramblings of his own anxious mind.

It was clear that his interrogators had had no idea of what they had had their hands on until he had told them. What was more interesting was how curious they were about it. (Or rather, how interested Moody and Dumbledore were in it. Snape had always been a morbid, greasy little git.) Rabastan knew that such magic would have been of _great _interest to the Dark Lord, who specialized in coming up with new and improved atrocities to commit upon the human race .. But to the so-called _heroes _of the Wizarding World?

Rabastan lifted his eyes to once again survey his captors.

Snape had clammed up entirely, eyes fixed upon the card with an interest that only furthered Rabastan's suspicions that the Potions Master had always been slightly deranged. Moody's disfigured face was clearly troubled and unsure what to think. Dumbledore, on the other hand – Dumbledore was watching him.

"What did you _want_, Mr. Lestrange?"

The question was so unexpected that Rabastan thought he could have missed it had he not felt those eyes upon him. His eyes must have relayed his confusion to man before him who interrupted the startled silence with an almost eager explanation.

"You said that you saw what you wanted and did what you had to do to get it. What was it that Voldemort offered you that you _wanted?_"

There was a beginning of understanding in Dumbledore's eyes that told Rabastan that his poker face had begun to slip and his story was soon going to unravel, whether he liked it or not. But Rabastan would sure as hell not go down without a fight.

"What makes you think that it was _Him _who approached me?"

Dumbledore dismissed the question without ceremony, Snape and Moody quite forgotten as he persisted with his own line of questioning.

"You were a Curse Breaker after you finished Hogwarts, am I correct?"

Rabastan conceded a nod even as his forehead wrinkled and his eyes sharpened. Dumbledore had obviously made a connection that _he _hadn't. "I worked for Gringotts for two years."

"In Africa?" Dumbledore prompted, his eyes gleaming with interest.

"In a lot of places," Rabastan replied off-handedly, flexing his fingers as they began to tingle unpleasantly.

"And, during that time you did _what_, Mr. Lestrange?"

Frowning at his inability to see where the Headmaster was _going _with his questioning, Rabastan answered with abounding reservations. "Translating the warnings and legends depicted on the Tombs mostly. You can usually discover what kind of curse was placed by the choice of warning or scenes on the entranceways."

"So, I presume you gathered an impressive knowledge of many of the ancient cultures you worked with, would I be correct?"

One dark eyebrow rose boredly, though dark eyes were now heavily guarded.

"You might say that."

"You weren't always so interested in History, Rabastan."

The Death Eater grunted in irritation and his eyes rolled towards the ceiling as he sneered aloud, "With Binns teaching is it really any wonder? Now, is there a _point _to this trip down memory lane or are we just killing time here?"

"I'm sure there's a point somewhere," Dumbledore replied with a twinkle in his eye. "What I want to know, Mr. Lestrange, is what _use _Voldemort had for a Historian whose sole concern was long dead languages and treasure."

Rabastan's lips twitched against his will.

"My concern was never _treasure_, Sir."

"_Oh_." Eyes widened in a show of unconvincing surprise and the elderly Wizard inclined forwards, that same infuriating twinkle in his eyes. "Just _what _were you concerned with, Rabastan?"

In that moment Rabastan thought he knew what Dumbledore was doing, even before his reply of, "_Knowledge_," left his lips there was a triumphant smile on his former Headmaster's lips.

"And knowledge is power, isn't it Rabastan?"

Rabastan didn't even have to reply, but he did.

"The Dark Lord knew it. He understood it like nobody else. The others – Bellatrix, Rodolphus, Barty .. They all revered him for his power. They didn't understand where it came from," his lips turned faintly as for the first time, a scrap of old loyalty seemed to ignite within him. "He offered me what I wanted and more, in exchange for my allegiance. We were convinced that this was a crusade, a revolution against what was wrong with out society. I saw no reason why I _shouldn't _join his cause."

Moody's hackles raised at such a bold pronouncement spoken without ceremony. He had witnessed atrocities committed in Voldemort's name that still met him in his darkest nightmares.

"You became a Death Eater for the sake of knowledge, Mr. Lestrange? There are many ways one can learn _without _joining a cult."

Rabastan knew that his former Headmaster should have sounded more surprised but it somehow slipped passed his notice.

"Not what _He _knew," Rabastan murmured faintly. "_He _knew that true magic, _real _magic, did not come from incantations and wand waving. He has studied magic as it was _meant _to be studied, the magic that was not dark or light or good or bad but simply _was. _He had traveled the deepest, darkest parts of the world and learned more about the old magic's than perhaps any other person alive."

"But," and Rabastan's lips turned in a half-laughing smile, "_He _didn't understand it."

The way in which Dumbledore was regarding him was dissolving back into disapproval, Rabastan realized, but found he could not stop now that he had begun. The majesty in Dumbledore's stare seemed somehow depleted in the face of what he had to say. The _reasons _for his actions brought with them a memory of a life before the cold shadows of Azkaban. A life that was vibrant with color.

The memories alone tasted sweet upon the tongue.

"My first meeting with the Dark Lord came after my brother's wedding. Rodolphus was already a Death Eater by then. I expected to meet another power-hungry Politician who preached the Pure Blood Gospel that my parents were always so fond of. What I found was someone who was exactly that, but something more as well. He was a leader. Charismatic and unpredictable and _intelligent _and he was eager to learn what _I _knew."

The euphoria of his memories dimmed as Rabastan pushed them away, bitterness rotting the initial glow of those early memories from the inside out. "I had wanted to be a Mediwizard as a child," he interrupted himself as his memories faded together. "My parents did not think it a suitable profession for a Lestrange. They directed me towards more scholarly pursuits, in the footsteps of Rodolphus."

The curve of Rabastan's lips faltered, his eyes dropping away into the murky depths of his thought before his speech resumed. "It is remarkable how similar the professions of Curse Breaker and Mediwizard turned out to be. Instead of symptoms I had scriptures, instead of diseases I had curses and at the crunch time, if my diagnosis was right, instead of a treated patient I had mounds of treasure."

When Rabastan's eyes rose he found an odd expression upon Dumbledore's face. It spoke of sympathy rather than condemnation, pity over disgust. But Rabastan Lestrange had never wanted anyone's _pity._

"You see, after some time of discussing what I knew of the Ancient Magic's the Dark Lord's interest in me became clear. In his travels he had heard many things, but there was one concept that he paid more attention than most. It said that magic began in the soul, the Ancient Egyptian's called it '_Sekhem_', the source of a man's power. The source of magic. I believe he thought that if he could isolate the part of his soul that was the _source _of his magic, that he might somehow unlock some great power." (**5**)

Now Rabastan _knew _he wasn't imagining the triumph in Dumbledore's eyes.

"What did you learn in your research?"

Dumbledore was pleased, that much Rabastan could easily tell.

"A number of odd things," Rabastan replied carefully. "Some scriptures represented _Sekhem _as great beasts."

Dumbledore must have realized the shrewd interest that Rabastan was now regarding his reactions with and visibly restrained himself.

"You have been most helpful so far, Mr. Lestrange," the elderly Wizard spoke at length. "I must insist, however, that you continue as such. If you are, as you would have us believe, completely removed from the Dark Lord's service, then it would be in your best interests to assist us."

"My best interests?"

Rabastan's smile was slow in forming, his dark eyebrows perching upon his brow as eyes glowed with incredulous amusement.

"I find it hard to believe that incriminating myself and throwing away the _only _leverage I've got is in my 'best interests'."

A flutter of something swept through Dumbledore's eyes that sent ice down Rabastan's spine. There was no denying that, while the old man was eccentric bordering on senile, Albus Dumbledore was powerful in every sense of the word. But with a resolve that refused to disappear Rabastan met that stare head on.

"I will _not _return to Azkaban."

"You went willingly, I recall," Dumbledore replied softly. "Without the ceremony of Bellatrix, of course, but without a struggle."

The Death Eater laughed but it was hollow, his eyes dead in their sockets as he seemed to shrink into himself. "That was _before._"

"Before _what?_"

Snape's interruption drew Rabastan's eyes towards him.

"Before I realized that there are worse things than death."

Upon meeting Snape's callous black eyes a spark of anger seemed to ignite within the Death Eater, his eyes snapping shut and his breathing drawing shallow.

"All those years of suffering, waiting, unable to _hope _because there was never any hope in the first place. I spent over a _decade _in a festering cell for my devotion. Over _ten years _under the influence of an anger that I could not place. Of seeing the faces of men and women and children whose names I couldn't remember but whose blood would not wash off of my memory."

Dark eyes opened again to fix upon Snape's set expression with disgust.

"I _waited _but there was no reward, instead I heard the screams of my former colleagues turn to whispers and to whimpers and then to the stench of _death_. I wanted to know _why _I could not be like _them. _I realized that my actions had not been in the name of _revolution_, there _was _no revolution. There was only one mans petty greed and anger. Even when our freedom was won there was no glory. We lived amongst the very people who the Dark Lord despised so much to avoid recognition. We were not _heroes_, we were rats hiding underground with the filth of the world."

The raw anger burned out, turning instead to the same bitter resentment that Rabastan wore like a second skin now. His eyes turned away from Snape, unable to bear the indifference of that black stare any longer and turned to the peeling wallpaper.

"I started smoking and drinking and socializing with the people that I was supposed to hide amongst and it only confirmed what I had begun to suspect in Azkaban. Muggles and Muggleborns were no threat to us. Rodolphus thought that living amongst Muggles was addling my brain. By the time that the Dark Lord required our service once again I had no wish to carry out his ridiculous orders."

For a moment Rabastan's eyes seemed to gleam with satisfaction, his lips curving just so before he resumed. "Some of my new habits caused a stir amongst my colleagues."

"If you no longer believed in his cause why did you continue to serve him, Mr. Lestrange?"

Dumbledore's eyes were sharp, his tone equally so.

There was a glimmer of laughter in Rabastan's eyes as he turned them back to meet his former Headmaster's, shifting his arms in their binds just so to draw his long sleeves away from the long vivid black skull etched into his forearm.

"You don't just _cancel _your subscription and stop paying your membership fees, Sir. To desert the Dark Lord is to stick one foot over the side of the cliff."

Rabastan's lips curled as he sank back into his binds, eyes drifting shut as he drew their conversation to a close without his captors even realizing it.

".. And, whatever else you might think of me, Sir, I was _always _a Slytherin."

* * *

Something bad was about to happen. 

Yuugi didn't know how he knew it, nor did he know _why _he knew it. He didn't even have to question it. He, after all, had enough experience in such matters to be taken as an authority on the subject.

Yes, something bad was going to happen, the problem that Yuugi was facing was just _what _that something bad was going to be and how soon it came about.

He should have known, the King of Games mused to himself as he stared at the peeling wallpaper on his makeshift bedroom walls. Every new stage of his life was somehow christened by another impending disaster.

'_Aibou_?'

The Spirit of the Puzzle's voice was cautious in breaching his thoughts, a courtesy that Yuugi found himself especially thankful for today. Malik's state of mind had added one more worry to the towering pile, and, when combined with Kaiba's sudden departure ..

"_Aibou?_"

Yuugi jumped at the hand that rested upon his shoulder, head whipping around so quickly that his neck clicked. Amethyst eyes rose to meet the faintly worried stare of their sharper counterparts and he offered an apologetic smile, before letting out a heaving sigh as he sunk backwards onto his mattress.

"Do you think Kaiba-kun was right in leaving like he did, mou hitori no boku?"

Slumped upon the mattress as he was, Yuugi missed the perplexed stare that the former Pharaoh leveled upon him. "Kaiba will always do as he wishes Aibou, I was surprised that he stayed as long as he did."

Yuugi's lips turned faintly in acknowledgment of the statement and redirected his stare on to the ceiling. "I thought he'd tell us," he owned at last, fingers plucking absently at the worn bedcovers.

The Spirit's face slipped in an odd expression before determinedly forming a brave attempt at a smile as he leaned over to obscure Yuugi's view of the ceiling. Amethyst eyes blinked rapidly and widened visibly in surprise at the sudden change of view before an obliging smile resurfaced on the young King of Games' face.

"I _know_, it's Kaiba-kun."

Yuugi fell silent, chewing his lower lip as his mind fell into turbulent thought, his eyes a reflection of every tremor of change. Atemu felt the change of mood as acutely as had it been his own, crimson eyes narrowing into a frown as he sunk down to sit upon the edge of the mattress.

"Something is going to happen," Yuugi declared suddenly, his voice filled with all the anxiety that Atemu both marveled at and wished he _wouldn't _feel. "And if Kaiba-kun .. If Kaiba-kun is the one to suffer .."

The young King of Games sat bolt upright, Amethyst eyes finding and holding Atemu's own stare fretfully. "None of this is a coincidence, is it? All of us finding our way here, Shaadi, these Wizards, that prophecy, the stone tablet .. Malik was trying to tell us something, mou hitori no boku, but something is stopping him. I think .."

Yuugi hesitated, worrying his lower lip before admitting in a far softer voice, "I think that maybe he knows what's happening."

The former Pharaoh stared back at his counterpart with troubled eyes, seeking to soothe as he reached out a hand to pat Yuugi's shoulder reassuringly. "Kaiba and Set can take care of themselves Aibou, as you well know, and Malik is much stronger than he could ever believe of himself – he _will _beat this. As for everything else .."

The Spirit of the Puzzle trailed off, not entirely sure how to finish his sentence. Unable to extinguish the spark of suspicion that remained deep and unbidden, all the brighter for the fog that clouded his memories. His past.

"You don't think," Yuugi whispered softly, eyes speaking volumes of disbelieve that were rendered silent by the slightest hesitation. "You don't think that what Shaada said was _true? _That somehow Kaiba is going to .."

Atemu shifted uncomfortably, unwilling to admit to such a notion but unable to dismiss it.

"You've felt it," Atemu murmured, at last breaking the tentative silence. "Something is going to happen Yuugi, and when it _does _we have to be ready .. For anything."

Yuugi slowly sunk back into the mattress, his eyes returning to the ceiling as a small, sad smile trailed over his lips and Atemu sighed loudly.

"For anything."

* * *

When Rabastan next awoke it was night-time. 

The grimy windows had been covered with dust-laden curtains and the dim orange light of a lamp threw long, eerie shadows across the peeling wall-paper. Beyond the window panes the wind was howling, driving great torrents of rain into the windows.

It must be late, he realized at length, for the household was silent but for the noise of the stormand the voices of those keeping watch were hushed.

Their voices were kept low, obscured by distance and the remaining haze of sleep that shrouded Rabastan's thoughts. His eyes too were not to be trusted, gritty and heavy, and him not willing to blink lest he bring attention to himself.

It was some time before his eyes began to adjust and the sounds that rolled over his ears began to take on meaning. The conversation, however, was unusual by any standards and Rabastan wondered briefly if he wasn't dreaming.

"-There were a _great _many things that the Wizarding Race felt it had to fear from your kind. Who knows what was well founded and what was mere superstition?"

The first voice was engaging and articulate, touched by a certain quality of edginess that Rabastan didn't think was related to a lack of sleep.

"You think they had a _reason_ to fear us?"

The second voice was haughty, pressed with youthful self-confidence but no doubt capable of turning to charm and pleasantries with the bat of an eyelid.

The owner of the first voice chuckled, a low and pleasant sound that was punctuated only by the erratic drumming of his fingertips across the fraying arm-rest.

"Oh," his voice sly and steeped in something akin to bitterness, "there is _always _a reason."

Thunder rolled.

Rabastan covertly stretched out his neck in an attempt to better study what he could make of the pair. An armchair sat with it's back to him, having been drawn up to the couch that sat opposite him. Set at such an angle that he could not see either mans face, he settled instead on the parts he could see.

The man in the arm-chair was restless despite his controlled manner, Rabastan noted that he often shifted his head towards the windows as though forgetting their shrouded state. From where he sat Rabastan could see the long pale-fingers that drummed continuously across the arm-rest, never quite at ease.

The other was the complete opposite.

Stretched luxuriously across the full length of the couch he appeared perfectly at ease. Only wisps of dark hair shifting occasionally as the boy changed position or the flash of olive skin as his arms conducted the flow of his conversation. At the other end of the couch a pair of black leather boots jiggled absently as he talked.

Neither seemed particularly forlorn at missing any sleep.

Twisting his wrists against their binds in an attempt to register some feeling from stiff muscles, the Death Eater strained his hearing in an attempt to catch the gist of the conversation being held.

"You know .."

The voice was sudden and close and warm and _loud _in his ear.

"Eavesdropping is generally considered to be _very _impolite."

Rabastan's neck jerked around so quickly that his vision swam and his lips had formed a disdainful groan before he even realized who he was seeing.

"_Hiya roomy!_"

An exhausted and fragile singular lavender eye met his surprised stare, lips curling in a devilishly nasty smile as the conversation abruptly halted and those who Rabastan had been observing were now observing _him_.

Rabastan wondered absently how he could have _missed _the Egyptian's presence before – it wasn't as if the blond faded into the background.

Malik was similarly bound to a chair some two or three feet to Rabastan's left. Though, Rabastan noted with minor irritation, his binds were considerably less extreme than Rabastan's _own._

"Devil be _damned_," Rabastan groaned, his voice raw in his throat. "You really _weren't _kidding about that _Hell _thing were you?"

Malik gave a miffed _hmph _and raised an eyebrow shrewdly, "I hardly consider _you _my ideal room-mate either, I'll have you know."

"You're awake."

It was the first voice, it's warmth now replaced by cool civility. Now, however, Rabastan had a name and a face to put to the voice.

Pale and tinged with exhaustion but decidedly bright-eyed Remus Lupin was both irreversibly changed and entirely the _same _as Rabastan remembered. He apparently _hadn_'_t _grown out of the habit of stating the bluntly obvious.

"So it would seem," Rabastan replied, eyes moving onwards as Lupin's companion stood.

For a full moment Rabastan stared, face paling and eyes widening as he was struck by an overwhelming overlay of three different images at the same time. Eyes went from grey to green to something entirely else in moments. Features softened and sharpened and twisted, but that _dark _hair and those long limbs never quite changed.

The effect was dizzying and he was forced to squeeze his eyes shut in order to collect his thoughts.

When his eyes reopened Lupin had an expression of minor disapproval fixed upon his face that did little to hide his obvious amusement.

One of the images had disappeared now and Rabastan now realized that it was as if he were seeing that figure of the pearly-white prophecy in bold blinding color, from vivid green eyes to lean olive limbs and that _dark _dark hair. He stared for almost another entire minute before he began to notice the subtle (and _not _so subtle) differences.

Gauzy shawls were replaced by slick leather and clinging cotton, the dark hair was gathered sloppily at the top of the figures skull and more importantly the figure before him was most definitely _male._ The illusion had now vanished, leaving Rabastan to stare in confusion at the willowy dark-haired teen that was now watching him through shrewd vivid green eyes that were touched, not by surprise, but by mild irritation.

It was plain that the kid was used to being admired.

"Like what you see?"

The scathing words made the Death Eater jerk into focus and the Egyptian chuckled lowly as he shifted experimentally against the ropes that bound him. Lupin settled for sending a mildly reproving stare in Otogi's direction.

One dark eyebrow twitched upwards as the Game Creator sidestepped Lupin's armchair. Whether Rabastan had offended or intrigued him was unclear, but the Death Eater figured that whatever it was, he now had the full undivided attention of Otogi Ryuuji.

"_Well?_"

Green eyes made a brief detour towards the Egyptian as he continued to chuckle.

"You reminded me of someone," Rabastan explained, all too aware of Lupin's watchful stare upon him. "An old woman, as a matter of fact."

Lupin carefully restrained his smile but Malik was rarely given to tact. The thrum of his laughter spurred a spark of electricity through the Game Creator's eyes.

With a slow, predatory smile that failed to eliminate the violent sparkle in his eyes Otogi leaned back against Lupin's chair. Sizing up the Death Eater with the confidence that he was renowned for.

"That's one I haven't heard before," Otogi's voice oozed deceptive charm. "I think it's about time you had your eyes checked."

"The effort would be wasted," Lupin interrupted coldly.

Rabastan's eyes rounded upon Remus and found a certain amount of distaste that was unable to be contained by the other Wizard's natural civility. Not that it _surprised _the Death Eater to any great degree, Lupin had never held him in any particular regard.

"And here was I remembering you as the _nice _one, Lupin," Rabastan murmured.

His crows-feet deepened as a smile curled across Rabastan's lips.

"And _I _always thought you were intelligent Rabastan. Memories aren't always as reliable as we'd like to think them to be."

An eyebrow raised over Lupin's decidedly frosty gaze and Rabastan did his best to ignore the half-delirious chuckling that thrummed in his ear.

Otogi, however, had little interest in the exchange of tart remarks and the resurgence of old House rivalries. He cared very _little _for the history that dictated the actions of both parties. He was far more concerned with his _own _history – and _that_ lesson had been rather rudely interrupted.

"You were about to tell me the reason," Otogi prompted Lupin loudly as he continued to give Rabastan the hairy eyeball.

Lupin started at the sound of Otogi's voice, his expression doubtful.

"You wish to continue even though .."

The werewolf trailed off with a pointed glance in the direction of the pair of bound spectators who weren't even bothering to veil their interest.

"Oh, don't worry about _that_."

All eyes turned towards the blond Egyptian and he offered a cheerful grin.

"_I've _been listening for the past half hour or so."

Rabastan shot an accusatory look at the Egyptian. "And you told _me _off for Eavesdropping?"

Lupin withheld a grimace and turned his eyes instead back to Otogi who seemed entirely unfazed or was at least doing a decent job of pretending to be.

"You see," Malik continued loudly as he inclined his head to the Death Eater. "Otogi there, the one you mistook for a woman, is a Gypsy. And from what I've gathered, he's feeling a bit down about himself because none of the other kids want to play with him because of it."

Malik paused, chewing his lip thoughtfully before raising an eyebrow thoughtfully and inquiring of the Death Eater, "D'you think '_Gypsy_' is a euphemism for.-"

Otogi cut him off sharply with a snarl of, "mouth _shut, _Ishtar, or I'll find a gag to match your ropes."

A taunting smile wiggled across Malik's lips.

"_Kinky_, dice-boy. Didn't know you had it in .. _Ouch!_"

The Egyptian watched the small cubic object that had hit him smack-dab between the eyes bounce away across the carpeted floor before leveling a surprised stare on the now smirking Otogi.

"_Fine_, Dice-Boy. Have it your way. I _know _it must be hard being the only '_Gypsy_' you know, what, with all those girls always following you around. What do you _.. Ow!_"

Another dice hit it's mark, effectively cutting Malik off mid-sentence.

The Egyptian, however, was nothing if he wasn't persistent.

"If it helps I think Bakura might be a '_Gypsy_' too .."

Malik ducked his head hurriedly as another dice shot through the air towards him.

While Lupin was trying his best to transform his laughter into a sudden coughing fit, Rabastan was eerily silent, his dark eyes fixed upon Otogi with renewed interest.

"I'm _warning _you Ishtar," Otogi growled, brandishing another dice between his fingers.

"_Hey_, I respect you Dice-Boy. Not many '_Gypsies_' would just _come out _and ask for help .." (**6**)

Malik yelped as another dice scored a hit and bit down on his lip as a vindictive gleam entered the Game Creator's eyes.

"_One _more word," Otogi warned. "And I'm setting the dragon on you, and I'm telling you – without Kaiba here that thing _isn't _all that cuddly."

Malik offered his best obliging smile and leaned back into his restraints with a dutiful promise of, "Not another word," before yelping as another dice caught him in the same spot as the others.

"What was _that _for?"

There was a definite _whine _to his voice.

"A reminder," Otogi responded with a smug smile as retreated to his couch, listening to the Egyptian's disgruntled muttering with visible satisfaction.

Malik watched intently as the Game Creator settled back upon his couch before inclining his head towards Rabastan.

"Just where the Hell does he get all those dice from anyway? It's not as if there's ample storage space in those pants of his."

The Death Eater's lips twitched and he strained his eyes to better hear the conversation that Remus hesitantly resumed.

"There are many theories as to what started the Wars, I don't believe anyone truly knows any more. But somewhere along the line, the two races stopped trusting one another."

Otogi slumped back with a loud moan and interrupted the werewolf without the slightest attempt at courtesy. "Yeah, I've heard this one Lupin. Blah blah _trust_, blah blah _suspicion_, blah blah _your _race exterminates 60 percent of _my _race, blah blah blah!"

Boots hit the floor with a clunk and Otogi was standing again, arms folded and a shrewd gleam in his eyes. "What _aren't _you telling me? The _Monopoly Man _wasn't shooting me filthy looks because _his _ancestors decimated mine. _You _aren't treating me like I've got a '_Fragile: Handle With Care!'_ sticker plastered to my forehead because our races stopped _trusting _one another."

The uncomfortable tension that followed was unceremoniously broken by a decidedly unhelpful addition of, "He's _right _you know."

The Egyptian fielded Lupin's displeasure with a sunny smile.

"Quiet down in the cheap seats," Otogi growled, rolling another dice between his fingers.

Rabastan, however, had at last cracked a knowing smile. His eyes fixed upon Remus with something akin to delight.

"I suppose that you haven't told the kid just _what _his people _did _to gain that nasty reputation of theirs, have you Lupin?"

Remus' eyes shot towards the Death Eater in a silent warning.

Otogi, however, was suddenly a whole lot more interested in what the Death Eater had to say.

"Unsurprising Lupin, you always hated to hurt everybody else's feelings. I suppose that's why you let Potter and Black's egos get so out of control. I bet _he _doesn't even know what you are, does he Lupin?"

The werewolf stiffened, rising abruptly from his chair to round on the Death Eater with a visible sheen on panic in his eyes.

"Big of you not to blame him, Lupin. I'm sure that there aren't many who'd be willing to share that opinion."

"Shut _up_, Lestrange."

An underlying warning had rose in Remus Lupin's eyes that Rabastan had never had the opportunity to witness before. The message, however, was indelibly clear.

Otogi's attention, however, had been garnered. He stepped around the empty armchair to regard both Lupin and Lestrange with equal interest. He anticipated Sirius' arrival with startling accuracy but could not have expected the reaction that it inspired from the Death Eater.

The second that the semi-transparent apparition of the last descendant of the Black line appeared, the color drained form Rabastan's face. He stared in startled disbelief at the spirit as it stalked passed Lupin to pause and stare down it's nose at him, a familiar wicked grin rolling across aristocratic features.

"No '_Hello_' Lestrange? Not even after your sister-in-law very near killed me?"

Rabastan's confusion was evident.

"_Very near? _You look dead enough to _me _Black. The transparency sort of gives it away."

"Very near," Sirius repeated with a toothy smile. "I'm not all dead – only mostly."

"You're _mostly _dead?" (**7**)

Rabastan's skepticism wasn't difficult to detect.

"It's a long story," Sirius replied.

Rabastan snorted. "I'd imagine."

"This _isn't _your High School Reunion," Otogi growled loudly, green eyes blazing as he stalked forwards to intercept the pair and redirect attention to the topic at hand.

"Explain yourself. _What_ would Lupin have to blame me for?"

Suspicion was evident in the Game Creator's stare as it reviewed those present, finding similar confusion (and interest) in Malik's eyes and uneasy silence in two of the three Wizards'. Rabastan had, as of yet, been unable to tear his eyes away from the terribly transparent form of Sirius Black.

Breaking the spell of silence Lupin gave a long shuddering sigh. Twisting his lips into a weak, hesitant smile he moved to address Otogi who was growing more irritable with each passing moment. It seemed to Otogi that the wizard was preparing himself for the worst possible scenario and the Game Creator wasn't entirely sure what to expect.

"I am a werewolf."

.. Well he certainly hadn't expected _that._

* * *

The noise, Seto mused groggily, was something akin to hammering in the base of his skull. His still hazy mind figured that it had started close to ten minutes ago and despite Seto's best efforts to ignore the steady rise in volume, there were no signs to indicate it was stopping anytime soon. 

Not once had Seto questioned the decidedly worn and ancient mattress that he had slept on during his stay in the House of Black until he had sunk onto the lavish comfort of a hand-picked and ridiculously expensive bed the previous night. It was a whole new level of comfort that he had every intention of enjoying.

But the knocking was still there.

Grimacing, the elder Kaiba extracted himself from the bedcovers and strode barefoot across the plush carpeting towards his doorway before he could think the better of it. Following the persistent knocking to it's origins, Seto found himself staring at the wide pair of double-doors that served as the sole entrance to the apartment.

As he stared the knocking increased in volume once again, now punctuated by intermittent calls of, "_Kaiba sir!_" in a loud, nearing panicked male voice.

Suppressing a growl, Seto grabbed the nearest door handle and wrenched it sharply open, blue eyes fixing without surprise on a suddenly flustered Jenson whose knocking arm fell sharply back to his side as he stood to attention. His military stance was only offset by the large and colorful gift-basket tucked away under his other arm.

"Good morning Kaiba sir!" he stammered out as Seto's lips thinned.

The elder Kaiba scowled, his mind clearing of morning haze with surprising efficiency in the wake of his agitation and he bit out a decidedly sharp, "What did you want, Jenson?"

Jenson flinched at the unguarded annoyance. His brown eyes nervously avoided Seto's face as he extended the gift basket towards the elder Kaiba brother, giving a decidedly wooden recital of what he'd obviously been practicing in his mind all morning, "Mr. Davidson asked me to bring this to you Sir, he also requests a meeting at your convenience to discuss future operations."

Seto suppressed a yawn, reaching out to take the gift basket in his arms and level a coldly amused stare upon his employee. "Tell Davidson that my schedule is full, I will contact him if I feel it is necessary."

Jenson fidgeted uncomfortably on the spot for several moments, avoiding meeting Seto's stare with a diligence that the elder Kaiba might have found impressive had it been otherwise directed. Finding that the longer the man in front of him avoided eye contact, the more his agitation gave way to seriously misdirected amusement, Seto prompted coolly, "Was there something else Jenson?"

"No Sir," the other man replied slightly too quickly, his eyes flashing upwards briefly and being caught in a coldly amused stare.

Contrary to his statement, however, Jenson remained precisely where he was. Fidgeting uncomfortably in the doorway under the weight of Seto's steadily growing impatience and offering a weak attempt at a smile. The elder Kaiba watched, completely nonplussed as to his employee's behavior and seriously considering the benefits of simply closing the door and leaving Jenson to it.

Seto, however, was in a strangely good mood now that the last vestiges of sleep had left his mind and so endeavored an attempt at civility.

"_Jenson._"

Seto thought that he had sounded patient, but, judging from the Deer-in-the-Headlight's expression that Jenson now sported he figured that his attempt at civility really wasn't going too well.

"Why are you still here?"

With a nervous clearing of his throat and a self-conscious tug at the Windsor knot at his throat, Jenson offered another weakly apologetic smile and conceded aloud, "It's Mr. Davidson Sir, he told me not to leave until you'd agreed to see him."

Seto felt Set stir within his mind and the flood of amusement from the Spirit that soon followed his arrival.

'I'm telling you omote, one good quick shock will do the trick.'

The High Priest's voice was dry with amusement yet contained undertones of something entirely different. Something that was probably to do with the violent thunderstorm that had shook the city overnight and the rain that had persisted through morning.

Seto, however, refused to be baited in front of one of his employees and restrained the threatening tug at the corner of his lips with stony resolve, instead focusing upon the fidgeting form of his employee with a determined frown.

"I assure you that there is little chance of Davidson getting a meeting."

Seto was sure that this would motivate the man passed a hesitant step backwards off of his doorstep, but when Jenson continued to hover, his lips twitched with disdain and Set began to chuckle infuriatingly in the back of Seto's mind.

All thoughts of civility flew out the window at the sound Set's amusement ringing loudly in his ears.

"Do you plan to stand there _all day, _Jenson?"

Seto hadn't been serious, but the guilty expression on his employee's face suggested that Jenson _was._

In an instant Seto made a decision, ignoring the sardonic laughter that continued to haunt his thoughts he turned abruptly on his heel and without looking back snapped, "Follow me."

Seto didn't notice the panic that registered upon his employee's face, nor did he much care. Set took enough notice for the pair of them as he watched the nervous man shuffle hesitantly through the doorway. He had just breached the doorstep when Seto added an aptly timed, "Close the door behind you," over his shoulder.

Set's laughter resumed as the man scrambled to follow Seto's orders and bustled after the elder Kaiba with the air of an abashed puppy. Set trailed him with interest as he hesitantly wandered into the next room and very nearly walked straight through him when the man stopped abruptly.

Seto had deposited the hefty gift basket on the breakfast counter beside a cheerful Mokuba who had halted in the middle of his breakfast to rummage through it. The younger Kaiba looked up, caught sight of Jenson hovering uncertainly in the doorway and hid his surprise remarkably well.

"Good morning, Jenson," Mokuba declared, eyeing Set suspiciously over the uncomfortable PA's shoulder. "Would you like an apple?"

The younger Kaiba plucked one from the basket before Jenson could reply and sent it hurtling through the air. The PA caught it with some surprise.

Seto returned before his employee had even realized he was gone. The sleek prototype of the Duel Disk III, which was stowed under one arm, was promptly brandished in the PA's direction.

"Since you seem to have nothing better to do, take this down the Lab. I want a thorough performance analysis before lunch."

Jenson practically wilted under the command, his eyes widening as he accepted the new armful and stammered out a terrified, "of course, Sir! Right away, Kaiba Sir!"

He was gone in moments, the door clicking shut behind him to the resounding sighs of relief from both Seto and his younger brother. With narrowed eyes Seto moved to the coffee machine, flicking it on distractedly before moving around the breakfast bar to sit beside his brother.

"Why didn't _you _answer the door?" Seto groused sullenly, hawkishly eyeing the coffee-machine's slow progress.

Mokuba's grin was effectively hidden by a tangle of loose dark hair as he bent over the gift basket and he perhaps might have succeeded with such evasive tactics had he not been in the presence of his elder brother. Seemingly realizing that he wasn't about to get away with anything, Mokuba lifted his head to display the smugly satisfied smile upon his lips and met his brother's eyes.

"Because I _knew _that it was Jenson."

A brief grimace and wrinkle of the younger Kaiba's nose revealed the younger Kaiba's feelings on _that_ matter.

"Besides," Mokuba continued with an innocent smile transforming his expression as he swatted dark hair from his sight. "I was eating."

Seto's eyebrow twitched. "_Brat._"

The innocent act disappeared and Mokuba grinned back, procuring an orange from the top of the basket and lobbing it towards his brother in a peace offering. Seto caught it, eyes clearly stating that they were in _no_ way even, before he dug a thumb into the orange skin and a spray of citrus perfumed the air.

When the first piece of sour fruit touched his tongue Seto's eyes moved on from his brother, lingering briefly on Set who was hovering behind the two brothers, before landing upon the coffee machine as it gave a satisfying chime and the aroma of caffeine swept through the air.

"Well Omote," the High Priest prompted as Seto rose to his feet and moved towards the coffee machine. "What's the plan? I highly doubt that the Ministry of Magic have called off their search for you, you know. I expect that there are many better and smarter Bounty Hunters out there than the first."

Mokuba's expression darkened at the mere mentioning of the term, _Bounty Hunter. _Seto, on the other hand, appeared supremely unconcerned as he poured scalding hot black coffee into a pristine porcelain mug and raised a hand to fan away the steam.

"You can't tell me that you don't _care _about this, omote."

Set was clearly aghast, his eyes narrowed to dark slits in his eyes as he squinted at his Reincarnation, as if in an attempt to bring him into focus. The spirit of the High Priest had learned a lot about Seto Kaiba since he had been released from the Rod, but it was more than clear that he missed several crucial lessons somewhere along the line.

"If the Ministry of Magic wish to find me," Seto intoned scathingly, "Then all the worse for them."

In unison both Set and the younger Kaiba brother's foreheads crinkled in identical frowns. The phenomena made Seto's lips twitch.

"In _Seth's _name, I have to say that that is possibly the _worst _plan that I've ever heard, Omote .. And _I've_ sat in Council with _Karim_ and _Mahaado._"

What had begun as agitation was quickly being provoked into anger by Seto's supreme lack of concern and when Seto merely took another slow sip of his coffee and raised an impertinent eyebrow the Spirit let out a savage snarl.

"Do you _mean _to get us all thrown into Wizarding jail?"

Seto's lips curled. "I can't say that it was on my '_To Do_' list."

Set leveled a murderous stare at Seto as he drained the remainder of his coffee in one quick shot and set his coffee mug back on the countertop behind him. Then, picking up the remainder of his orange Seto made his way towards the doorway, making sure to flash an infuriatingly _knowing _smirk over his shoulder as he departed.

For a moment Set stared at the doorway with simmering dark eyes before he turned abruptly on his heel to watch the younger Kaiba as he picked at a bunch of grapes.

"Why do I get the impression that he isn't telling us something?"

Mokuba fielded the severe expression with relative ease as he pushed the grapes away in favor of rummaging deeper into the basket.

"Because," Mokuba explained knowingly, a ghost of a smile curling over his lips as he triumphantly procured a box of chocolates from beneath the assortment of fruit. "Seto _never _reveals his hand until precisely the right moment."

Settling back onto his seat Mokuba broke the plastic seal on the box and flicked it open. Pointedly ignoring the faint trace of disgust that curled across Set's features as he carefully selected a chocolate, the younger Kaiba's lips curled in satisfaction, all breakfast foods long forgotten now in favor of pure, sweet indulgence.

Set scowled, casting an irritable glare in the direction that his Reincarnation had gone.

"Then let's just hope he isn't bluffing."

* * *

**Footnotes:  
1. **For _shame_ dear Priest, you should know better then to taunt the Gods ..  
**2**. I'll give you two guesses as to_ who _Mad-Eye is referring to.  
**3. **Now is as good a time as any to stress Malik's current state of mind. His mood will fluctuate radically throughout this chapter. This _is _entirely intentional. Keep in mind that he is currently _very _unstable.  
**4**. It is strongly implied but never actually stated that Rabastan (and Rodolphus, come to mention it) was present for the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom. But, as I'm 99.9 percent sure that this _was _the reason that he was sent to Azkaban and that he _was _one of the two unnamed wizards who were trialled at the same time as Barty Crouch Jr. and Bellatrix, I'm sticking with it. Savvy?  
**5. **And _all _will be revealed soon enough.  
**6**. Oh yes, I am the _Mistress _of Bad Puns. It isn't a talent I'm particularly proud of either.  
**7. **A shameless allusion to _The Princess Bride_, which is possibly my favourite movie .. Ever. **

* * *

AN: **Well well, it's been a long break since my last update, which is not to say that I haven't been writing. This chapter proved ridiculously hard to write for many reasons, not the least of which being that my sister stole Goblet of Fire and didn't give it back for several weeks. In all there is a great amount of Rabastan and very little of Seto, which irks me greatly as it's down to bad time-lining on my part. I hadn't realized that so little Kaiba-action takes place during this segment of the story. Far more of Seto in the next chapter however. Anyway, happy reading and hopefully the next chapter proves more cooperative than this one did.

* * *

_"I do not mean to pry, but you don't by any chance have six fingers on your right hand?"  
"Do you **always** begin conversations this way?_"


	31. Corporate Espionage

**

* * *

**

Book One of Eight;

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**- Chapter Thirty -  
**Corporate Espionage

_- Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus _-

* * *

Seto Kaiba had come to regard the time that he had to himself with increasing fondness over the passed few months. It was, after all, hard to come by with the Spirit of an Ancient Egyptian High Priest having taken up residence in one's mind, especially considering that Spirit seemed to have an over-inflated sense of self-importance. Particularly when it came to Seto's plans. 

The elder Kaiba brother had always thought himself a superb tactician, worthy of all the glory that had been bestowed upon him by the Press, the business world and his fellow Duellists alike. Set, however, seemed entirely disinclined to agree with this rather sound assessment.

"If you'd just tell me Omote," Set wheedled carefully, forcing himself into Seto's eye-line for what was incidentally the twenty-fifth time that morning. "If I knew what the plan was than I could help you fix it."

Seto's eyebrows rose sharply and for the first time that morning he allowed Set to hold his gaze for more than ten seconds, all the better to project his contempt, before turning his stare back to his laptop and hefting a mighty scowl at the flickering spreadsheet sprawled out across the screen.

"Your confidence in me is _astounding,_ Set," was the clipped reply as he flipped onwards from the spreadsheet. "My plan does not require _fixing._"

The High Priest scowled, turning his head away and giving a very uncharacteristically vocal, _harrumph_, of annoyance.

Set, quite simply, did not like to be out of the loop.

Having grown up in a swarm of political game-playing, favours and maneuvering he had learned very quickly that the inner-circle was where all the real decisions were made and any fool knew that if one wanted to stay on top of his game, _that _was where they had to be.

Set knew this. He had grown up with it. He had seen and done his fair share of clever maneuvering in his time, managing to work his way from anonymity into the place of the second-most powerful man in Egypt. He had been the _Kai-Imakhu, _raising beyond the expectations that anyone had had of a child who had believed his father to be nothing more than a soldier killed in battle.

Of course, Set had later learned that his father was considerably _more _than a soldier and certainly not _dead. _But then, of course, that revelation had been soured by the second more impressionable revelation that his real father was a possessed, murderous snake of a man who had wished to usurp the current Pharaoh and have _Set _replace him.

None the less, Set knew that if one wanted to get anywhere, they had to have an inside scoop on the action. But when faced with Seto Kaiba there was one very big problem that prevented any of this from happening.

Seto Kaiba, quite simply, didn't _have _an inner-circle. He didn't even have an inner-_triangle. _He was, Set had come to realize, the biggest power-hog that the High Priest had ever met and he didn't seem inclined to_ start_ sharing any time soon.

Thus, if one wanted to gain insight into the inner-workings of Seto Kaiba's brain, Set had come to realize that there really was only one way to go about it - you had to provoke him.

It was a feat that was surprisingly hard to accomplish, despite the elder Kaiba brother's naturally prickly disposition. None the less, Set had become decidedly good at it. In fact, the High Priest was beginning to consider himself something of an expert on the matter, though to be fair, the crown would always belong to Yuugi Mutou.

It was with this thought in mind that Set did both a very brave and a very foolish thing that had he given rational thought to, he probably would never have even considered. The Spirit reached out and, quite nonchalantly, pushed Seto's laptop firmly shut with a resounding _snap._

The average man (or Spirit for that matter) would have quaked under the utterly dangerous (and slightly deranged) gleam that came to life in Seto Kaiba's eyes before promptly fleeing the scene in hopes that they could outrun the retribution that was sure to swiftly follow. Set, however, was not the average man (or spirit.)

Once upon a time he had been a great and powerful sorcerer, second only to the Pharaoh he had served, and thus he was of an utterly unique disposition. _Quaking _was something that was quite simply not in his nature -not even before the great _Diaboundo _had Set faltered. _Fleeing _too was out of the question - Set had not fled when faced by the demonically possessed form of his manic father - why should he _flee _from his own Reincarnation?

And when all the logical and perfectly sane remedies were eliminated from the equation and Seto _bloody _Kaiba was staring at you _like that _there was only so many things that a man (_Spirit_) could do - and so, Set smiled.

It was precisely the worst thing that one could possibly do in such a situation, but it was also the last thing that Seto had expected.

After all, when Seto _Kaiba_ was annoyed, people did not _smile _at him. Not even in the slightly twisted way that the Spirit was currently projecting at him - it was unheard of. It was ridiculous, absurd - and Set was _still_ doing it.

A snarl parting his lips in an entirely animalistic way Seto stood sharply, intentionally stepping right through the barrier that dictated what a reasonable amount of personal space _should be _and glared right into the Spirit's dark eyes.

"_I_," Seto spoke, voice deliberately soft and _cold_, his face so close to the other's that Set could actually _feel _the words as they parted ways with Seto's lips, "Am _not _going to tell you."

Dark eyes blinked, once, twice and again, unable to miss the gleam of amusement that sprouted somewhere in the depths of his Reincarnation's eyes. His lips, which had slackened considerably in Seto's sudden decisive motions, rose up again in a somewhat stronger but equally as deranged smile as before.

Unintimidated and determined to let his Reincarnation _know it, _Set took another deliberate step forwards, planting himself firmly toe to toe with Seto's black boots. Pressing his face further forwards until their noses were near touching and there was nowhere else to look except into the other's eyes, Set spoke.

"_I_," he replied, intentionally mimicking Seto's own speech pattern with a wicked gleam in his eyes, "Am inclined to _disagree._"

"Oh, that is just _wrong!_"

Like a gong sounding right in their ears Mokuba's declaration broke the tension in the room and drew Seto's head sharply towards the doorway. Neither had even heard it opening.

"-_I _thought that that Ron guy was just kidding - but _seriously! _That is just-"

A visible shudder finished Mokuba's sentence for him and his nose wrinkled as Seto stepped away from the Spirit and turned a faintly amused expression in his younger brother's direction.

"_Mokuba_-"

"You know therapy isn't _cheap _'nii-sama..-"

The younger Kaiba brother's tirade rounded off when another louder, "_Mokuba!_" interrupted him mid-sentence, though both Set and Seto could see that the younger Kaiba's lips had begun to curve in an amused smile and his eyes were gleaming with suppressed mirth.

Seemingly deciding that he had pushed his older brother far enough the younger Kaiba offered up a cheeky grin and, with a departing wave of his hand, added one last jibe, "There _was _a moral to that whole _Narcissus _story, you know, 'nii-sama!" (**1**)

"_Brat_," was the concise assessment from the elder Kaiba that was jilted with amusement.

"_Narcissist_," Mokuba retorted cheerfully over his shoulder.

"_Children_," Set drawled, watching with minor disappointment as Seto rolled his eyes, resumed his former seat upon his bed and the laptop was once again flipped open.

It seemed, the Spirit assessed as his smirk slowly began to return and his eyes gleamed still brighter, that more extreme measures would need to be taken.

* * *

If Otogi Ryuuji had been aware of the existence of an entire magical world as a child, he was certain that he would have been enamoured by the idea. 

The prospect of a hidden society in which the creatures of fairy-tales lived and breathed and where magic, the kind produced by the waving of wands and brewing of potions and not by shadows and golden trinkets, was _real _and tangible.. It was something that any child would cling to. But Otogi had never _been _just any child.

He wondered if it was _this _world that children thought of when they received letters written in cursive emerald ink that proclaimed them gifted and summoned them away to a castle in the depths of the Scottish countryside. He wondered if it was this world that they still saw when they came out the other side.

The Magical World was not the place of childhood imaginings, Otogi decided. It was as ugly as the rest of the world and overflowing with cold, unhappy truths.

It was a place where the monsters that terrorised chesty blondes in B-Grade Horror films were, in fact, real and not an excuse to send scantily clad women running for the camera. It was a place where, by unhappy circumstance, the kindest and gentlest of men became murderous beasts at the rise of the full moon (though it _did_ explain the ridiculous nickname.) It was a place where his ancestors were the creators of those not-so-fictionalised beasts and where _he_ could be held accountable for the bloody revolution of an oppressed race centuries after the blood had been spilt.

It was a place that Otogi, truth be told, didn't like very much.

And it was _far_ too early for any of this.

Sleep was not an option of late, he acknowledged, stifling a yawn behind one hand and leaning briefly, tiredly, into the cold artifical support of the wooden bannister. He'd take exhaustion over the Dementors in his dreams any day.

With a heaved sigh and wondering briefly where his hitch-hiking Spirit had disappeared to, Otogi slowly rose from the step he had been perched upon for what must have been hours now, wincing when his calve muscles protested mightily and his knee-caps cracked.

Dawn had not yet reached the House of Black and only the faintest promise of the Sun's return on the horizon had brought pale grey light and long, dark shadows to the stairwell. His fingers were icy to the touch, but at present Otogi couldn't find much within him to be bothered by the cold, his latest history lesson had numbed him quite sufficiently.

Oh, the answers had been there aplenty - as blunt and brutal as Rabastan Lestrange had pleased until Lupin had given into temptation and magically silenced the man.

Rubbing away the goose-bumps from his bare arms Otogi continued the trek downstairs, wondering how difficult it would prove to work the kitchen without the aid of a wand. It was cold and he wouldn't be amiss to finding anything that could replace the hollow twisting of his gut.

_Can't be long now, _he decided at length as he heard the softest of thumps from the ceiling. Soon Molly Weasley would be down to begin the morning feeding of the troops, he would wait in the Kitchen until then.

Resolved, the Game Creator shuffled through the darkened hallways toward the kitchen and, unable to keep his thoughts on such mundane thoughts as his breakfast, wondered if Remus Lupin blamed him at all. A shiver coursed down his spine and Otogi drew his arms around his torso, rubbing vapidly at his bare arms again to dissuade the goose-bumps that remained there.

Otogi did not expect to find someone already within the kitchen, nor did he pay Severus Snape much attention when he did find him, instead perching upon the chair that was furthest from the Potions Master and trying not to remember the words that had escaped Rabastan Lestrange's lips before Lupin had silenced him.

'_You know what Necromancy is, don't you kid?_'

Spine rolling with the shiver that coursed through it the Game Creator tried to draw his attention outwards - away from the whispers that echoed in his mind. _Black _magic. _Forbidden _magic. And faces of the _Mulo - _blank, lifeless stares set in faces of rotting flesh and the dead who were not allowed to_ Rest In Peace, _paced restlessly through his mind. (**2**)

Tentatively he raised a hand to trace the scratched and burned wood of the table-top before allowing his eyes to wander apprehensively back to the silent figure at the other end of the table.

Snape was succeeding rather too well in pretending that Otogi didn't exist. He sat in silence, massaging his forearm with long, pale fingers and a pained grimace. If the man hadn't been so determined to ignore his existence Otogi might have felt obliged to feign concern.

But in this light Snape's already pale skin was rendered a sickly shade of grey and his dark hair hung limp over bruised black eyes making it too easy to ignore the rising and falling of his chest and the methodical movements of his fingers and imagine him as one of the creatures that plagued his mind.

Otogi turned his head away sharply when those dark eyes caught his, rubbing his arms against the cold that seemed to have worked it's way into his very bones and remembering the dark and the cold and the screaming of a fortress, hidden away in the middle of a storm-tossed ocean. A place haunted by Ghouls that didn't want your rare cards but rather your _soul._

"My _goodness_."

And suddenly the shadows and the pale grey light was gone, replaced by the warmth and glow of a _Lumos_-lit wand and a shocked but vibrant and _alive _Molly Weasley.

"What on earth are you doing up at this hour, Severus?"

Her fingers brushed a vivid wispy curl of red away from her forehead and she tugged her dressing-robe closed over her nightgown, brown eyes openly surprised as she focused upon the grim figure of the Order's Spy.

"That isn't appropriate to discuss in present company," the Potions Master replied curtly, his voice hoarse as dark eyes turned upon Otogi pointedly and Molly's eyes followed.

"_Ryuuji_."

How long had it been since anyone had called him _Ryuuji?_

"Is there something wrong? Are you sick?"

And the woman was upon him, brow furrowed as she lay a hand to his forehead and peered down at his complexion with motherly concern. It was strange to be paid such attention, he'd been self-sufficient since _The Black Crown _had burned to the ground and his father had never been much of a parent in the first place.

She clucked her tongue as he ducked his head away from her probing hands. "You look pale."

"Couldn't sleep," Otogi lied.

"You're _cold_," Molly gasped in surprise as her hand brushed his shoulder and shaking her head. "I'll make some tea."

Because, in Molly Weasley's mind, tea may not have been able to fix the world's problems but it could _certainly _take the edge off.

Otogi was surprised to find himself sincerely grateful. He had certainly done nothing to secure the woman's good will since his arrival at the House of Black, save perhaps, a very, _very_ minute superficial resemblance to her favoured _adoptee._

In the Weasley matron's presence the cold silence of the kitchen came to life with the bubbling of the kettle and the crackle of fire in the grate, it was almost unrecognisable from the gloom that Otogi had first encountered.

However, the change in atmosphere did little to change Otogi's mood and as the Kettle began to whistle shrilly and Molly set to her morning routine, the Game Creator's train of thought slid away from the brightly lit room into the darker corners of his mind.

'_Werewolves were said to be a by-product of a failed _kal' enedral' Spoke the hesitant voice of Remus Lupin from recent memory, fumbling over the foreign words before clarifying the term, '_Blood vow._'

_'It is said that the first werewolf was the son of a prominent Wizarding family. The boy provoked the leader of a Gypsy Clan by luring his daughter away under the pretence of an elopement. When the daughter disappeared the Clan tried to discover the girl's whereabouts through reasonable means, but when weeks passed and she was not found, while the boy remained with his family, they took drastic action. A curse was placed upon the boy that would reveal his true nature at the setting of the sun. And, when night-time fell, the Clan Leader's fears were realized, for the boy became a beast of the worst nature, a great ravenous wolf that tore apart his entire family in the space of one night._'

_Lupin had paused, remotely pleased for the temporary reprieve that the Lestrange brother had awarded them from his dark sarcasm, and attempted to gauge Otogi's reaction through covert glances. Otogi had diligently pretended not to notice and awaited the rest of the story with a grim resolve._

_'When morning came and the boy returned to his human state he discovered the carnage of his family and he soon was able to discern what had happened. It did not take him long to discover the potential of his curse and turn it around on those who were responsible for it. Most of the Clan died and those who didn't became as he was. I don't think they ever expected for the Curse to be passed on.'_

_'Yeah,' _Rabastan had snorted aloud at this point, unable to hold his tongue any longer_, 'And Dementors were never meant to_ **breed.**'

Otogi jumped as something hot brushed his icy fingertips and his eyes rose sharply towards the Weasley matron as she pushed the porcelain mug firmly into his grip. Glad for the heat that seeped from the steaming, milky liquid within Otogi rose the mug automatically to his lips, ignoring the indignant protests of his tongue as the liquid scalded his mouth on the journey down.

Surprised at the inkling of something sweet mixed with the brew he threw an appreciative glance in the direction of their resident Motherly figure and wrapped his freezing fingers around the mug.

Otogi had never warmed to the taste of tea, much preferring the liquid crawl of sinfully dark chocolate on the tongue to the taste of _leaves, _thank you very much, but at present the pure heat was enough to tide him over.

Molly was cooking now and through the gaps in the curtains the sky was a shade of palest orange against the gloomy grey cover of clouds. With breakfast soon to be on offer the rest of the house would soon be stirring. The thought of inane chatter and other, _rested _faces to distract him from his thoughts was pleasing and Otogi endeavoured to replace the worn mask of apathy on his face with a passable smile.

Snape was now doing his best to look busy, a difficult task with nothing to preoccupy himself with, and his sleeves had been set loose over his arms again. The pained grimace of earlier morning had been replaced by the natural state of displeasure that his features so often clung to and he too had a steaming cup of tea set before him.

Otogi wondered if the man would even touch it.

"Has no one ever told you that staring is impolite?"

The Game Creator stiffened at the evident irritation in the Potions Master's voice, attention snapping away from his inner thoughts to the outside world with the sharpening of a vivid green stare.

"_You're_ hardly the model of civil behaviour, Snivellus," came the airy declaration from Sirius Black as he walked straight through the closed door with only the softest '_whoosh' _of displaced air.

If possible, Snape's expression soured still more and his dark eyes grew resentful as the Spirit swept across the room, straight through the distracted Molly Weasley eliciting a surprised gasp, to hover over Otogi. With a shrewd expression in place the Spirit hesitated before declaring rather louder than was necessary, "Stop brooding. It doesn't suit you."

"I was _not _brooding," the Game Creator retorted, eyes flashing with annoyance as he turned in his seat to regard Sirius. "_Kaiba _broods, the _Pharaoh _broods, Gods, even your little _boy-hero _broods. _I _do not **brood.**"

The Spirit in turn scoffed, rolled his eyes and twisted his lips into a sneer that spoke volumes of sheer disbelief.

Otogi scowled. "_Brooding _is for boring, tragic loners who think that being mysterious and depressed is a good way to build up their _tortured-soul _image. **I** don't _brood._"

"Then what, may I ask, have you been _doing _for the past **three hours**?" There was the smallest gleam of something in Sirius Black's eyes that Otogi didn't like the look of and when paired with that strange twitch in the corner of the Spirit's lips it sent an odd tremor spiralling through his stomach.

"_I_," Otogi replied sharply as Sirius' eyes began to twinkle, "was _reflecting_."

The Spirit snorted. "In other words, you were _brooding._"

"There is a very _distinct _difference between brooding and reflecting. _I _was not _brooding._-"

"_Who_ was brooding?"

The Game Creator's eyes rose sharply to the doorway, fixing the newest addition to the breakfast party with a pointed glare. "I was **not **brooding."

Bill Weasley's lips twitched in response as he sank into a seat - a noticeable distance from a dour and scowling Severus Snape - and turned his attention to the equally ill-tempered Otogi.

"What were you _not-brooding _about then?" The eldest Weasley brother inquired cheerfully, receiving his fair share of irritation from the Game Creator as he accepted a mug of steaming tea from his mother with a cheerful '_Thanks Mum,'_ and '_Good Morning_.'

"Nothing," Otogi growled back, already regretting his decision to choose the kitchen as his retreat from his thoughts.

Meeting Sirius' curiously _un_amused stare with a scowl, Otogi took another sip of the sweetened tea to calm his rising temper and attempted to savour the wave of warmth that followed it's path down his throat, unable to stop the shiver that crawled down his spine and the whisper of dark words that hissed in his ear.

'_You know what Necromancy is, don't you kid?_'

* * *

"_I didn't know_." 

Yuugi paused, chewing his lip thoughtfully, eyes invested in the various areas of discolouration and peeling that crowded his ceiling with an intensity that was, in reality, quite odd.

"What was that Aibou?"

Yuugi blinked with surprise, not quite realizing that he had spoken aloud until he turned his eyes slowly towards the slightly worried and openly bemused expression of the Spirit of the Puzzle.

"It's what Malik said," the King of Games clarified with an apologetic smile, rolling off of his mattress to stand slowly with a strung-out yawn and a growing frown. "I was just wondering what he was talking about."

Atemu's response was a frown of his own that was hurriedly replaced by a decidedly shallow smile that Yuugi could have seen through a mile away. "I'm sure it was nothing Yuugi."

"It _sounded _like something," Yuugi chided softly, a faint smile being offered in the Pharaoh's direction in assurance that the attempt to soothe him hadn't gone unnoticed.

The Pharaoh grimaced faintly, obviously mildly disappointed that they would be having _this _conversation at _this _time of the morning. Deciding that it was probably best to just get it over with, Yuugi sighed and sank down onto the edge of the mattress before meeting Atemu's eyes with a frank and open stare.

"I'm worried."

"I gathered that much already Aibou," the Pharaoh teased lightly and received a scrunch of the nose in response.

"I'm serious mou hitori no boku," the King of Games admonished with a warning twitch of his lips. "I think Malik knows more about what's happening than he is letting on. If he knows something then we need to find out about it - and quickly. Kaiba-kun is _out there _by himself."

The Spirit sighed, willing to concede gracefully to a battle that he _knew _he would never win, and settled for levelling a frown on his counterpart.

"What do you propose we do, Aibou?"

"I think that we need to talk to Malik," the King of Games decided firmly. "Maybe if we knew what was coming we could ask the Order for help."

Atemu's lips quirked in the faintest of smiles.

Nodding to himself and obviously pleased with the plan of action Yuugi stood again, eyes catching upon the single card that lay desolate upon his bedside cabinet and feeling his smile grow wider.

Tugging his borrowed pyjama shirt into order the King of Games plucked the card from it's place and eyed it with faint amusement.

"I think," he declared aloud, "That Bakura-kun will be pleased to have you back."

And Yuugi couldn't be sure if his eyes were toying with him or if it was a trick of the light, but he could have _sworn _that the curious hybrid creature on the card _nodded _at him.

* * *

He was back again. 

Seto wasn't entirely sure how it had happened. He was certain that when he had last checked he had been wide awake, coffee mug in hand and eyes trained determinedly on the flickering screen of his laptop. The fact of the matter, however, was that for the second time that day his attempt to finish that one odious spreadsheet had been interrupted. It was a matter that Seto might have found bewildering if he had not known exactly who was to blame - Set was handy like that.

The coarse fibres of the matting scratched uncomfortably at his knees through the gauzy film of dusty (_blood_-spattered?) robes and the harsh, guarded stares of his jaded companions were no more welcoming. Near enough to reach out and touch but emotionally as distant as the rest of the assembly, the Priestess that Seto could have, and initially _had,_ mistaken for Isis Ishtar was silent. Her elegant face was stretched and pale with exhaustion, bloodless lips pursed firmly shut as Kohl-sharpened eyes scoured her hands, evading the faces of those who surrounded her with grim resolve.

The remainder of the assembly were equally elusive.

Seto knew, or rather Set knew and was playing the omniscient tour guide, that at one point this council would have been lively with debate. That the reverence their Pharaoh had always commanded would once have been sprinkled with the dry, tart banter of Karim and an indulgent Mahaado. That once Set himself wouldn't have hesitated to challenge and to provoke those gathered under the uniting cause of their leader's protection - the Pharaoh himself included.

Today, however, the council was silent in defeat.

There was no bold and opinionated Mahaado to be drawn into Karim's sometimes philosophical, and more often _nonsensical_, discussions. Karim was gone, his place, nearest Set's right, was devoid of the spirited banter that provoked such debates that would wile away a night before any matter of importance could even be broached, should they let him.

And at the head of their gathering, the place of honour lay solemnly empty. Their Pharaoh taken from them, not by the hands of an enemy but by his own sense of duty. His life the sacrifice demanded for the safety of _His _people and _His _country. It was a sacrifice that his lifelong friends and protectors had not yet come to stomach.

'_So many empty spaces._'

The quiet murmur at his ear made an already unsettled Seto jump. His neck cracked as his head craned around to regard the watchful Spirit that stood at his side.

The Spirit's long fingers brushed Seto's shoulder as he knelt beside him. Flickering candlelight streamed across the polished metal at the High Priest's throat and wrists as the Spirit adjusted himself and turned to those who remained of the council.

It was disorientating, Seto mused, to be both a part of and apart from the gathering. To observe the silent interactions through the eyes of both the Spirit and himself and never quite know what thoughts were Set's and what were his own.

The very idea that he did not know what he was to this environment, not quite a dream and not quite a memory, made Seto uncomfortable. Control over his own life was a luxury that Seto had learned time and again not to take for granted, the prospect of once again being a slave to another's machinations did little to endear him to this place.

When his words broke the ringing silence of the assembly, seeming to echo far and beyond the room itself, they were stung by the beginnings of anger. "Why am I here, Set?"

"They did not trust me," Set's voice was low and deliberate, his dark eyes never flinching in their stare - ever towards the empty space that should have been occupied by their leader. "And neither do you."

The observation was made with so little emotional input, so little despair at such an admission, that Seto found his eyebrows drawing upwards in honest surprise.

"It sounds as if it doesn't bother you," the elder Kaiba spoke at length.

And while the Spirit appeared completely indifferent to the prospect, Seto was unable to quell the abominable voice in the back of his own mind that told him that it certainly bothered _him_.

"You consider your_self _un-trustworthy?"

Amusement flourished upon the Spirit's features, "No. I hold myself in slightly higher regard than you do apparently, Omote. In fact, if I didn't know that your hostility and distrust stems from a traumatic and tragic past worthy of any _brooding_ sub-standard Romance novel hero, I might take exception to it."

Seto, at present lacking the composure to get anything beyond a bad-tempered snarl through a treasonous mouth, settled for glowering at Set's coolly averted profile.

The Spirit, seemingly surprised by such restraint, waited it out.

"Why am I here?" Seto repeated at last, his voice tight with something straddling the lines of anger and curiosity.

"_You_ are here because you don't seem to regard our current situation with the gravity it requires, Omote. _You_ are here because you blatantly disregard the notion that there is a purpose to be served other than your own."

"No," Seto scoffed, finding his feet and spurred on by the strange feeling of distance between himself and control of the situation. "That is why _you _are here. Why am _I _here Set?"

For the first time Set's eyes left the space where the Pharaoh should have sat to regard the stubborn figure that his Reincarnation cast. His lips turned hesitantly upwards for the briefest of moments before he turned back to assembly.

"You tell me."

Seto stiffened, eyes narrowing upon the the back of the Spirit of the Rod's head as he took a step backwards. The feeling of sandstone beneath his bare feet was unmistakably _real_, the air itself seemed to scour his lungs.

"What do you mean?" His words were barely more than a whisper and conscious of this and the snarl that elicited from within, Seto repeated himself, his voice reaching a volume that he certainly hadn't intended. "What do you _mean, _Set?"

The Spirit's head turned again, those lips curled in amusement and dark eyes glittering, as Seto's words bounced back at them, echoing of the walls amidst the resolute silence of the council.

"I did not _bring _you here, Omote."

Seto stared at the Spirit, finding that for one of the first times in his entire life he quite simply didn't have a response. '_Absurd_,' a snide voice within him piped up suddenly, '_How the Hell else did you come to be in _his _memories then?_'

"_I _did it?"

The words sounded as bewildered as the expression that had strayed across Seto's face and Set noted that seeing that rare state of confusion on his Re-incarnation's face was, truth be told, utterly unnerving.

Within a flash, however, the expression was gone. In it's place was a sweeping expression of the utmost contempt which was quickly accompanied by a loud snort. "Who the _Hell _would come here _willingly?_"

Set stiffened and dark eyes fixed irritably on his Reincarnation. Seto didn't seem to notice.

"No," Seto resolved, fixing a stare filled with suspicion on Set's person even as an echo of invasive noise cascaded over the previously silent room, "It was most definitely _you._"

"I can _assure _you, Omo-_mmph_," Set attempted to protest but was silenced by his Re-incarnation's hand smothering his mouth.

Long fingers clawing irritably at the appendage that was fixed over his mouth, Set failed to notice that the echoing sounds that had now invaded the room sounded suspiciously like the shrill ringing of a telephone. Thus, when the Spirit finally managed to remove the hand from his strangely corporeal-mouth he was bewildered to find himself kneeling on plush, white carpet rather than coarse matting.

"-_No _Jenson," the elder Kaiba was growling into the phone. "I do _not _have time to meet Davidson for a business lunch."

Set thought he heard the faintest intonation of a, '_Kaiba, Sir!_' before Seto cut the man off again.

"How is the testing coming along?"

Unable to comprehend the sudden rambling turn that Jenson's side of the conversation took, Set settled for scowling at his sudden relocation and wondering just how his Reincarnation had managed to drag _him _back from his own memories at what seemed to be Seto's smallest whim. It seemed that, despite Seto's best attempts at thwarting the progress, his Reincarnation _was _bending the power of the Rod to his thoughts.

"What do you mean by _irregularities?_"

Set winced at the dangerous snarl that attached itself to that one word and slowly rose to his feet, following the animated sounds of the blaring television towards the location of the younger Kaiba brother.

Mokuba, as predicted, was gleefully slung out across the luxurious sofa, distractedly flicking from channel to channel with an expression of the utmost contentment curled across his face.

Set found the sight abhorrently shallow.

Mokuba didn't care.

Dark eyes followed the rapid succession of foreign images that came from the younger Kaiba's indulgent flipping from channel to channel and Set was unable to keep the smallest amount of curiosity from his face at the very strange concept that it made. That was until, suddenly, one of the images wasn't quite so foreign.

Mokuba let out a startled yelp as Set dove unexpectedly at him, or rather, at the remote he held in his hand. The Spirit tumbled off of the couch as the younger Kaiba deftly ducked out of his way, (aided by the experience of many, _many _kidnapping attempts).

At the precise same time as Mokuba let out an indignant, 'What the _Hell _was that for?', Set snapped, '_Go back!_'

Blinking, the younger Kaiba obligingly flipped back a few channels and was greeted with the ominous sight of his elder brother's photograph and a nasally woman's voice.

"- _And rumours are flying today throughout Britain's gaming industry that with Japanese Business-Mogul and Champion Duelist Seto Kaiba's arrival in the country that another Tournament might be in the works. An inside source at Kaiba Corp's London Headquarters has today confirmed that Mr. Kaiba is indeed in the country and that the reason for his presence was being kept mysteriously quiet.. It was the belief of the source, however that.._"

"I don't believe it," the younger Kaiba sighed as he, quite promptly, flicked the television off with a resolute press of a button. "We've been here _one night _and they _already _know we're here."

Irritable slate-blue eyes dismissed Set's blank stare in favour of turning towards the direction of Seto's bedroom. The sounds of Seto's conversation were suddenly abominably loud without the blaring of the television and with a long suffering sigh the younger Kaiba eased himself off his nice, _comfortable _sofa and cast a wistful look at the luxury that surrounded them.

With a finality that was quite sudden they heard the elder Kaiba brother cut off his conversation and moments later he was stalking through the doorway looking remarkably irritated with words like _incompetent _and _idiots _spilling freely over his tongue and already shrugging into the slick white leather of his favoured trench-coat.

Upon realizing that the television was off and Mokuba had forfeited his hard-fought state of utter relaxation on the sofa, Seto pulled up sharply in his path towards the front door. Immediately suspicious but unable to figure _why _the elder Kaiba turned narrowed blue eyes on the pair, hovering briefly between the two as if deliberating who to question, before settling on Set. "What's going on?"

Set bristled at the natural assumption that _he _was at fault and threw an irritable glare right back at his Reincarnation. Mokuba rolled his eyes and replied for the Spirit, "Someone leaked to the press."

The elder Kaiba brother stiffened in place, subconsciously smoothing his leather coat into place. "What do they know?"

"They know we're _here_," Set retorted with narrowing dark eyes, "And the Wizarding Press won't be far behind them."

It took Set several moments of careful surveillance to realize that Seto didn't seem at all _surprised _by the news.

"We have to _leave _Omote," Set implored, taken in by the complete and utter lack of fear, or for that matter, anything in his Re-incarnation's features.

For a moment Set was certain that the elder Kaiba was going to dig his heels in and outright refuse to leave and that he was going to scorn the Spirit for even _suggesting _that they do so. But with a suddenness that was striking the elder Kaiba seemed to shake off that strange expression that had clouded his face and, glancing briefly in his younger brother's direction, he nodded once.

"Get ready to leave. Mokuba - get them to prepare one of the helicopters. I have something to take care of."

And with a flourishing flick of his leather coat Seto was again striding towards the door, blue eyes revived with determination and a flash of anger.

* * *

When Ron Weasley had first suggested that they scope out the room that had previously housed the two Kaiba brothers, Hermione Granger had been appalled. 

In her mind their previous attempts in investigating the Kaiba brothers had led to nothing more than a complete and utter disaster - a disaster that had culminated in the Kaiba brothers _leaving _the protection of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place and throwing the senior Order members into a right tizzy. It was not a memory that the young witch relished.

So Hermione was, naturally, rather surprised to find herself in the company of her best friends and standing, albeit hesitantly, in front of the closed doorway that had once housed Seto and Mokuba Kaiba. It was times like these that she wondered if Ron had anything _but _stubbornness locked away inside that notoriously lazy but occasionally _sharp _mind of his.

Glancing wryly over her shoulder at a half-asleep and sluggishly smiling Harry Potter and sharing a grimace the young witch sighed and reached for the door handle.

"_What are you up to?_"

Hermione jumped with a loud gasp that she barely managed to stifle, her eyes wide and her heart tap-dancing away in her chest she whirled around to find the youngest of the Weasley siblings smirking at her.

"Sod off Ginny," Ron snapped, his peevish manner attributed to the fact that he had let out a very _girly _shriek indeed at his sister's sudden exclamation.

The younger sibling, clearly too used to such phrases being directed her way, merely grinned and raised her eyebrows in amusement at the group. "Well? What _are _you doing then?"

Harry, some of the sleep scared right out of him, offered the younger Weasley a grin and murmured with a conspirator's whisper, "Ron thinks that Kaiba might have left his How-To Guide on becoming an evil mastermind behind."

The elder Weasley stiffened at the jab and narrowed his eyes at his best friend. "I didn't hear _you _disagreeing with me when I suggested this."

"No," Hermione agreed with a roll of her eyes, "That was _me._"

Shaking her head the witch gripped the handle firmly and pushed the door open, ignoring Ron's muttering in favour of getting things over and done with. The room looked much as it had done before the Kaiba brother's had taken up residence - sparse and bland. The only addition that Hermione could see was a neatly folded sheaf of papers set atop the end of one of the beds.

Immediately she swept towards the bed, ignoring the inquiries of her friends as she scooped the papers up and set to unfolding them.

The words that greeted her were enough to elicit a soft gasp of surprise as she sank heavily onto the mattress.

"_Hermione?_"

She couldn't tell which of her friends it was who had spoken, so transfixed was she by the words that stood out, etched in black upon the stark, uniform white of office stationary that was emblazoned with a small, entwined _KC _in the lower right corner.

"**_Hermione!_**"

Tearing her eyes away from the words her eyes rose slowly to her friends, only to realize that her hands were trembling and that she couldn't find words of her own to express what she needed to. And so, with words failing her, she extended the topmost paper in the direction of her concerned friends.

Harry seized the paper immediately, his eyes scanning the hastily scrawled message with avid interest before he too paled visibly and surprised green eyes rose to meet Hermione's own stare.

"I think," he spoke at length as the Weasley siblings claimed the note from his hands and poured over it eagerly, "That it's time we asked our _guests _a few questions."

Hermione could only find it within herself to nod in dazed agreement.

* * *

When the singing had first begun it had been something of a novelty. 

It had begun as a quite humming, drawn free from somewhere deep within the throat of the Death Eater in a low, growling sound that had, at first, convinced Malik that his fellow captive was choking on his own saliva.

With an uncharacteristically fidgety and restless Yuugi Mutou standing a silent, withdrawn vigil, Malik had permitted the Death Eater's noise to infiltrate his mind simply for want of a distraction. After all, Malik knew better than anyone that too much self-contemplation was a very dangerous thing.

Soon enough Malik had been able to deduce something of a tune from the sound, not one he recognised, but at least he was fairly certain that it was _some _form of music.

The humming (_growling?_) had soon been given percussion - the Death Eater's boots tapping dully against the worn carpeting.

It was this that had drawn the attention of their silent vigil and Yuugi Mutou did not seem overly pleased to have been pulled from his thoughts. Malik wondered briefly if that was something he should be concerned about before abandoning such somber reflections and their shadowy thrall in favour of watching the Death Eater with veiled interest.

Rabastan started at realizing he had an audience and for a while the strange tune faded into silence save for the idle tapping of one shoe upon the carpeted floor. Ten minutes later, however, the strange growling sound had returned and this time it seemed that the Death Eater was purposefully trying to provoke his companions.

So it was, that when the humming slowly morphed into actual words the novelty had already begun to wear off.

".. _Well I been down so god-damn long,_" the Death Eater half-sang, half-drawled to the frigid silence, mahogany eyes shrewdly watching for _some _sort of reaction from his altogether _boring _companions, "_.. That it looks like up to me._"

The Death Eater paused pointedly, as though awaiting some form of protest. When none were forthcoming a scowl crawled across his face and, voice raising in volume, he tried again. "_Well I been down so god-damn long.. That it looks like up to me._"

Malik yawned, shifting against his ropes and turned his eyes back to the Death Eater with a pointed frown. "You sang that part already."

Rabastan grimaced, eyes narrowing shrewdly as he spat back, "I _know _I sang that part already. It's part of the bloody so-.."

The Death Eater paused, seemingly thinking better of arguing with the now smirking Egyptian and resiliently slipped back into where had left the song, only serving a nasty scowl in Malik's direction.

"_Yeah why don't one you people,_" an odd smile quirked across the Death Eater's face, "_C'mon and set me free_."

"You _are_ the resident villain," Malik pointed out, cheerfully ignoring the eye-roll that this inspired.

Rabastan, determined not to be sucked in by the Egyptian's smug comments, narrowed his eyes and ploughed on in that same raspy drawl, "_I said, Warden, Warden, Warden.. Won't you break your lock and key._" (**3)**

"I bet the other prisoners used to beat you up in Wizarding prison, didn't they?" Malik inquired with a smug smirk.

Rabastan's exhaled in a loud hiss, determinedly growling out the next line, "_I said, Warden, Warden, Ward..-_"

The door was swung open with a sudden violence that Rabastan actually paused in mid sentence, eyes rising slowly to meet the infuriated green stare of Ryuuji Otogi. The Game Creator offered no greeting and focused immediately upon the Death Eater, as though he had been present in the room all along, "_Li'ha'eer_, if you don't _shut up.._" (**4**)

The sentence trailed off threateningly and the current occupants of the room had the decency to look properly confused. Eyeing the Game Creator hesitantly as he stalked inside and slung himself across the couch, his lips curved in a sharp singularly annoyed expression.

"Someone's getting into the _Gypsy Spirit_," Rabastan declared at last, disregarding the traces of surprise that still sparked at the Game Creator's sudden entrance.

A poisonous stare turned upon the Death Eater and he _almost _regretted having spoken. "What are you talking about?

One dark eyebrow raised and Rabastan turned his eyes first towards Malik, whose perplexed expression was evidence enough that the Death Eater had been hearing things, and then to Yuugi, who was as firmly self-absorbed as he had been since he had arrived.

Otogi grimaced, apparently no longer caring to hear Rabastan's answer, and fixed his eyes moodily upon the window. The dreary weather outside only succeeded in deepening the scowl already etched on his face.

Thus it was, that when Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny determinedly strode into the living room, determined to interrogate the one _guest _of the household who couldn't just _walk away _from them they were greeted with more faces than they had anticipated and one anticipated, but equally as undesirable face.

Rabastan Lestrange practically glowed at the sight of young and fresh targets - particularly ones who were so high on the Dark Lord's, '_Must Get Around To Killing Sooner Rather Than Later_,' list.

Before they Death Eater could even open his mouth, however, the bushy-haired teen witch had drawn her wand and thrown a prompt, '_Silencio' _in his general direction.

Rabastan, once again robbed of the ability to speak, settled for levelling his very best, _Pure-Bona Fide-Evil-And-Don't-You-Forget-It _sneer in the general direction of the teenagers in the hopes that they would get the message.

With Rabastan firmly out of the way, Harry Potter, playing ring leader to the little band of miscreants, turned his attention to the mildly amused Malik Ishtar and settled a narrowed stare upon him.

"We want to know what's going on."

And with that, the sheaf of folded papers were dropped to land with a resounding thump at Malik Ishtar's feet.

* * *

Charlie Weasley had never been prone to fits of panic. 

In a short but unerringly eventful life this trait had served him well. It had made him one of the best damn Quidditch players that Hogwarts had produced in centuries. It had coached him through the dubious task of gently informing his formidable mother that he was turning down every boy-Wizard's dream of Quidditch Super-stardom to go off into the darkest pits of Romanian wilderness 'chasing dragons', as it were. It had even given him strength when staring down rows upon rows of glittering salivating teeth that were twice as long as his forearm and infinitely more deadly.

No, Charlie Weasley was not a man prone to fits of panic. But at this particular moment, he was pretty damn well close.

The bed-covers, mattresses and curtains; Closets, trunks and dressers, lay strewn in a haphazard display across the worn carpeting. The bed-frames were tipped, the window frames rattled and the door firmly inspected.

There was simply no explanation for it, but Charlie knew. Somehow a very real, very temperamental and very pissed-off baby Dragon was gone - and Charlie held no illusions as to who would be shouldering the blame.

It had often occurred to the second-born son of Molly and Arthur Weasley that, in his chosen line of work, he might die a violent and gruesome death. What had never occurred to him was the idea that it might be at the hands of his own mother.

Sinking with a surprisingly articulate moan to the carpeted floor in the wreckage of his and his elder brother's combined wardrobes, furniture and personal effects, Charlie inhaled deeply of the stale air, closed his eyes and began to count backwards from ten to an audience of suitably inanimate grubby wallpaper.

To search the entire House of Black without attracting undue attention from the already suspicious occupants of the household was a task that bordered on the impossible. And, with a Death Eater in residence, no matter _how_ tight his binds were, Big Brother (or Mother as it may be,) would scarce blink should anything untoward be missed.

It was safe to say that Charlie had had his fair share of practice at covert operations, after all, he had managed to smuggle living, fire-breathing and tempestuous dragons passed the British Wizarding Border Patrol on two separate occasions. Not to mention the rescue of an equally tempestuous, living, acid-spitting Otogi Ryuuji from the most dreaded prison in the Wizarding world. But Charlie knew his limits, and when faced with his mother, he knew he needed back-up.

Right now he needed a plan. Right now he needed professionals. Right now he needed..

_"What_ the.. ?"

Bill's exclamation tapered off as Charlie leapt to his feet in a display of athleticism that was truly mind-boggling (and would surely hurt later), grabbed his elder brother by the arm and dragged him bodily into the room. The door slammed firmly shut behind him.

When Bill had regained his bearings he found his younger brother facing him anxiously, his back-bone pressed firmly to the panelled door and his fingers hooked upon either side of the door-frame. It was clear, the elder Weasley surmised, that Charlie had no intention of having either of them going anywhere in the near future.

With that in mind the elder Weasley turned his attention back to what had initially invoked his distress and proceeded to gape mindlessly at the wreckage of what had once been a somewhat musty but perfectly serviceable bedroom. He did this for several minutes, all coherent thought proving marvellously elusive, until his eyes once again met the form of his increasingly anxious younger brother.

"What did you do?"

Charlie was visibly surprised at the distinct lack of anger in his elder brother's voice. There was a fair amount of incredulity, but that was really to be expected.

"I, Uh .."

A gulp. Flash of a sheepish, would-be winning smile. Hasty aversion of eyes and – Aha!

Propelling himself passed his brother in a movement that sent Bill jerking out of the way in mild alarm, Charlie landed, skidding on his knees beside an overturned dresser and procured a pair of thick, fluffy socks neatly bundled together. Flashing a wider, yet altogether unconvincing, smile he shook his find jubilantly in the air.

"Found them."

Bill scoffed aloud, quite unwilling to be taken for a fool, and with a flash of annoyance in his eyes he stalked forwards and snatched the socks promptly from Charlie's grip.

"These," Bill announced, shaking the socks for emphasis, "are mine. What were you really doing?"

Charlie's smile slid away, his lips drooping into a surprised, "_Oh_."

Bill's eyebrow twisted upwards expressively and he tossed the pair of socks over his shoulder in favour of folding his arms and levelling his best Big-Brotherly stare on a clearly misguided younger sibling. It seemed that his younger brother had been away from his influence for far too long and, somewhere along the line, had forgotten that nobody lied to **B**ig **B**rother and got away with it.

Under the influence of that stare years of sibling hierarchy seemed to flood Charlie's system and he suppressed the shiver that threatened to course through his spine. He had forgotten how creepy Bill could be when he slipped into the eldest child role.

Worrying his lip Charlie slumped back against the up-ended dresser, sliding his legs out from under him before peering up at his brother over his knees cautiously. "I might have lost something," he admitted at length.

That one eyebrow gesticulated wildly, swooping downwards briefly before raising back towards the elder Weasley brother's hairline all within a handful of seconds. Brown eyes warmed with humour and Bill lowered himself to the floor, leaning against an over-turned mattress his limbs sprawling gracelessly in any which direction as he settled himself.

Elbow braced against the mattress Bill cocked his head against it, fiery strands of hair contrasting starkly against the sickly hue of the old fabric, all of which seemed to Charlie like an elaborate ploy at getting a better eye-level.

"You _might_ have lost something?" A wandering brown stare took in the war zone that had once been their bedroom with mild wonder.

Charlie recognised the ploy for what it was. Bill had always had that ability to persuade information out of his siblings (or near anyone else for that matter). Some called it charisma. Others called it charm. Charlie called it manipulative-flair and _damn_ but Bill was getting better at it as the years progressed.

"Alright," the younger sibling conceded with the faintest dimpling of his cheeks as an involuntary smile was stolen from him. "I lost something."

"Let me guess," Bill mused aloud in that seemingly aimless voice he liked to use when he knew he was onto something that could land someone, usually Charlie, in very hot water.

"That something is about _yay_-high," Bill's free hand gestured aimlessly through the air. "Has a _nasty_ little temper and a strange affinity for our cranky former-house guest?"

Charlie felt his cheeks warm even as he pursed his lips shut and gave an evasive glance towards the oh-so invitingly inanimate wallpaper.

"I wasn't aware you'd taken to hiding Otogi under your bed," Bill declared cheerfully.

Charlie's spine stiffened and his head snapped back to his elder brother's gleaming eyes so fast that he feared he might give himself whiplash.

Bill, however, held not half so much fear for his brother's health and merely smiled sunnily under the vicious onslaught of an indignant glare. "I _meant_ the miniature lizard of course," he placated at length under the darkening scowl on Charlie's face, though his eyes still thrummed with subdued laughter.

"_Dragon_," Charlie corrected shortly, brown eyes narrowing pointedly.

"All right," Bill conceded with one of the grins that he knew drove his younger brother to distraction, "Your little Dragon_ling_."

Charlie's countenance seemed all the stormier for the concession and his tone was clipped as he snapped back, "There's no such bloody word."

"For someone who doesn't want me to rat them out to Mum you're being _very_ hostile Charles," Bill replied airily, jiggling one of his shining black Dragon Hide boots pointedly.

Charlie _hated_ those boots. (**5**)

"You _wouldn't_," Charlie retorted stiffly with a shrewd stare, leaning forwards to prop his chin upon his knees and better observe his elder brother.

"You're right," Bill agreed. "I wouldn't."

The elder sibling's fingers toyed idly with his earring, a slow smile crawling across his face as Charlie's distasteful stare seemed torn between _it _and the offending boots. "Perhaps your little Dragon_ling_,-" Charlie glowered and Bill hid a smile behind his hand before continuing. "-Decided to follow it's heart."

Charlie's scowl was closing in on petulant, his brown eyes darkening as they observed his elder brother over the rise of his knee-caps. "And what's _that_ supposed to mean?"

Bill merely grinned knowingly, lounging back against the over-turned mattress he had adopted as a seat and quirking one eyebrow expressively.

The younger Weasley brother's brow knitted together and his legs slid out flat as he bent towards his elder sibling, lips twitching furiously and brown eyes shimmering with sudden concern. For a moment Charlie was silent, biting his cheek thoughtfully and eyes slowly widening under the continued gleam of amusement that swam in Bill's eyes.

".. You _don't_ think," he spoke softly, eyebrows drifting upwards as Bill proffered that same infuriating smile. (**6**)

"I'm _dead_," Charlie groaned, calloused hands closing over his face in agony as he slumped backwards, his head hitting the dresser with a loud crack.

"Very," Bill confirmed.

* * *

Running a successful business was something that Seto Kaiba had come to acknowledge as a twisted art form. For each and every one of the fine Universities and Colleges and Masters Degrees who promised above all else, that "_knowledge was the key!_" Seto had met a half-dozen street-savvy entrepreneurs who could out-sell, out-maneuver and outwit their educated contemporaries. 

Over the years Seto had learned many things about running his business, but there was one rule that nobody had ever had to _tell _him - and that was that anyone who was willing to leak to the newspapers was either; A) Not getting paid enough _or_ B) A very dangerous liability.

Working on the logic that Kaiba Corp had never given anything but the very _best _of compensation for the high standards they demanded of their workers, Seto was fairly sure that his problem was of the second and far more serious nature. Seto was beginning to think that he had a spy on his hands.

Boots clicking sharply on the spotless linoleum as he stalked towards the elevator at the end of the hall, Seto found his mind racing. Corporate Espionage was nothing new - it had been going on long before there had even been a _term _for it, but Seto wasn't so sure that anything was to be gained of any of his business rivals knowing he was in England.

What did it matter to _them _where _he_ was? Corporate Espionage usually had an objective to generate _useful _information on opposing companies, and, in spite of himself, Seto was beginning to think that this smelt distinctly of a rat that was not of a business nature, but rather, a _magical _one.

Stabbing the button to the elevator with a scowl Seto barely acknowledged the presence of the Spirit who suddenly appeared at his side.

"I think the Ministry of Magic has a spy in this office," Seto declared as the elevator shaft slid open and they stepped inside.

The elder Kaiba brother pressed the button labelled, not with a number, but with an _L_.

Set frowned. "I wouldn't put it passed them to be watching your businesses, Omote, but why would they leak information to the general public? I imagine Fudge would like to get rid of you with as little trouble as possible and it would hardly help his cause having the public _know _that you are here."

Seto considered this with a frown as the strange sensation of the elevator shaft lowering smoothly through floor after floor shot through his body.

"We shall see," Seto murmured as the sensation stopped and the doors slid open. Blue eyes narrowed as they caught sight of Jenson, hurrying towards the door with his tie askew and a decidedly odd expression upon his face.

"We shall see."

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1. **You all know the myth right? The man who fell in love with his own reflection.  
**2**. This is really the first time that I've incorporated anything of the _Roma _culture into this fictionalisation of Gypsy-culture. _Mulo _being the Romany word for, 'the dead', associated with vampirism and all that nasty stuff. Any of the Foreign words that spill from Otogi's lips, unless expressly stated otherwise, are of _Romany _origins.  
**3**. If any of you can tell me what the song was and who it was sung by - I'll love for you forever.  
**4**. Meaning, '_By the Gods._' -singsong- _Otogi's _beginning to _re_-mem-_ber_.. (-grins- Yes guys, I know some of you recognised it.But for the purposes of keeping things clear: It _is _actually of Romany origins, thus why Otogi-dear is using it.)  
**5. **It has never failed to amuse me that the Weasley brothers are often found to be wearing dragon-hide boots and jackets and dragon-fang earrings whilst their brother is doing his best to S_ave the Dragons. _This has led me to believe that it's something of a conspiracy amidst the family and that they do it specifically for the purpose of infuriating Charlie.  
**6**. Oh where, Oh where could that _dragon _be? -sniggers-

* * *

**AN: **Fixed a few nit-picks I had with the original post. Nothing major. Yes I know, you can all reserve the right to hunt me down in angry mob with flaming torches and pitchforks. It has been a _long _while since my last update, which really isn't so much to do with laziness on my part, but rather the stubbornness of this chapter. It didn't want to be written at all. The next chapter is where all the action _really starts_. -grins- 

In addition I recieved a review last chapter that pointed out one of the many nitpicks that I agree with so I'll endeavour to explain myself here.The question was how the _YGO _characters (namely Yuugi, Otogi and Malik, were the main ones I believe) could speak such fluent english. -grins sheepishly- Otogi I am fairly confident would have at least a _decent _grasp of the english language due to both his business affairs and the fact that (at least in the anime-series) he was in America during the whole Dartz saga, my memories a little fuzzy on whether he was actually living there or just happened to be there, but that's Otogi taken care of. Malik, being the head of an international organisation like the _GHOULS_, I imagine would have to have _some _grasp of the language(though I doubt it would be as fluent as I'veportrayed). Yuugi, on the other hand, is the least likely to have a decent grasp of the language. A few years ago now my family hosted a Japanese high school student and yes - they do have a lot of emphasis and learning to read and write the language, but for a 17 year old she _did _have a very good grasp of the language, not exactly fluent but very good none the less.. Yes, Yuugi isn't exactly a exemplary student, but hey, It isn't entirely _un_reasonable to imagine he'd have at least a rudimentary understanding of the english language, especially with all those Foreigners he keeps on dueling..But again, probably not to so great an extent. Thanks for the review and the time you've taken pointing out these things, they're worth their weight in gold when it comes to Revision time.

And on that note, I _do _so love your feedback. -flutters eyelashes-

* * *

"_Few people understand the psychology of dealing with a highway traffic cop.  
Your normal speeder will panic and immediately pull over to the side.  
This is wrong. It arouses contempt in the cop-heart. Make the bastard chase you. He _will_ follow._ "


	32. Instant Karma

**

* * *

**

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**- Chapter Thirty One -  
**Instant Karma.

_- Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus _-

* * *

When construction first began on the London Branch of Kaiba Corporation, it had been viewed as a relatively unimportant foothold in what was a rapidly expanding (if not entirely _legit_) empire. It was, of course, dwarfed by the strong-holds of Luxembourg and Berlin. It was utterly insignificant to the design houses of Paris and Venice and utterly unimportant in comparison with distribution and marketing factories in Beijing and Jakarta. 

Kaiba Corp London had, upon its creation and most of Gozaburo Kaiba's legacy, served little other purpose to the outside world than as an administrative representation for its larger and more important locales. It was the land of the paper-pushers (as more than one unfortunate individual had bemoaned upon learning they were to be transferred to said branch) and if water-cooler talk was to be trusted, housed some of the most boring human beings to ever walk the face of the planet.

What the other branches of the corporation (and the employees who loitered around their respective water-coolers) didn't realize about Kaiba Corp London was that, despite all evidence to the contrary, it did have a purpose.

During the years of Gozaburo Kaiba's Napoleonic reign, the agenda of the London branch had been covering up the illicit dealings of the other, more exciting, branches of the Kaiba Corp tree. However, when Seto Kaiba had usurped his step-father's position as CEO of the company there had been a tremendous shift in power.

No longer was Kaiba Corp a distributor of highly illegal weaponry to guerilla military forces! No longer was Kaiba Corp a powerhouse of black market dealings and corruption - and no longer were the dealings of the other branches half so illicit! The paper-pushers of London were officially even more redundant than they'd ever been - and that's when the panic began.

Seto Kaiba had found a niche in the market with an ingenuity that had stumped his business contemporaries - the gaming industry had begun its rise to popularity and he was riding the top of the wave. The Corporation was flourishing - but the employees of Kaiba Corp London were stumped.

Their sole purpose in the corporate chain had been cruelly snatched from them - what good were their spin-doctoring, manipulative string-pulling ways to a _gaming_ corporation? What nefarious deeds could the MTV generations Poster Boy for Tortured Genius have to bury?

The Land of the Paper-Pushers no longer had paper to push - the most boring individuals on the planet no longer had tedious paperwork and spin-doctoring to keep them occupied. The water-cooler was alive with whispers of the giant complex being levelled to make way for a new Starbucks.

Things had been dire indeed - and then something had happened.

It was something small really, to the grand scheme of the world, a mere blip on the radar of the general public - but it had been the beginning of a cosmic spiral of the strange and unexplainable.

Seto Kaiba had lost a duel.

Suddenly KC London were being filed work again - they were pushing papers to conceal and explain the unexplainable.

Yuugi Mutou? Of _course _Mr. Kaiba doesn't hold a grudge, he's very supportive of _all _his fellow duelists.

Death T? _Please_, all courtesy of an ex-employee with a grudge against the Corporation - Mr. Kaiba had _nothing _to do with it - most unfortunate of course, but that's the way it is with business.

With an expertise that no-one had ever believed of them, the redundant Londoners were suddenly burying reports of strange incidents connected with any merchandise bearing the shining and pristine _KC_ Logo. With exuberant spirits they denied (_denied, denied!_) knowledge of comas, disappearances and a sudden rise in mental breakdowns.

It was around this point in time, as work began to pick up once again at the Land of the Paper-Pushers, that a man named Douglas Jenson was hired as a filing clerk in the accounting department. He was a dependable but dull man with a passionate work ethic that (almost) saved him from being entirely unremarkable.

KC London became busier and busier. Reports flooded in of the most incredible nature - of magical golden items, of faulty products and serious injuries and (even stranger) of the projections coming to _life. _

It was about this time that Seto Kaiba payed them a visit.

By this time, dull but dependable Douglas Jenson had climbed the corporate ladder with a speed that would have been alarming in any one more memorable. When Seto and Mokuba Kaiba arrived at KC London he was now the junior-assistant to the branch-manager.

He was making tea when Seto Kaiba's clipped remarks regarding '_nonsensical rumours_,' and '_ridiculous Egyptian fairytales_' were thrown curtly in the face of a few sly remarks made by the (**Ex**-)Head of Public Relations and had heard that most emphatic snarl that Seto - on no uncertain terms - did _not _want to talk about Yuugi _bloody _Mutou.

That visit had cemented KC London's position in the corporate chain, the relatively untouched laboratories in the lower levels of the building were suddenly being used for something more than storage and all seemed well.. Until the day that Seto Kaiba snarled unexpectedly through the KC London private line that he was in need of a helicopter and express secrecy - ASAP.

Little did Seto know that all those years ago, when an unremarkable young man was hired as a filing clerk for the accounting department of a relatively unimportant foothold in the Kaiba Corporation Chain, that it had been this day that he had been preparing for.

* * *

As far as days went, Rabastan Lestrange thought that he quite possibly might have had worse. It was a stretch - but he found that if he tried really hard, if he _really _put some thought into it - that he could come up with a few examples. 

He was fairly certain that the first day he had been in Azkaban had been worse - and the second too, because naturally, the second day had been worse than the first. The third day, he thought, had been minutely less excruciating - but by then he was sure that he'd simply fell into a haze of distant memories of torching a muggle pub while _Duran Duran _blared from a parked car nearby. (**1**.)

The eighties had been fun.

Rabastan considered sharing this dim but warm piece of nostalgia, remembered that be had been quite snidely _Silencio!_ed by Know-It-All the Bushy-Haired Beaver (one of Potter's friends) and remembered why it was that this day was no longer fun.

He scowled.

Know-It-All had a severe expression contorting her face that put Rabastan in mind of Transfiguration during his Hogwartian days. He was fairly certain that if Minerva Mcgonagall had ever gotten it into her head to reproduce the result would have born a striking resemblance to the scowling menace.

Beside her (and partially eclipsed by the shadow of her hair) stood Potter's Other Friend. Rabastan thought he might have been a Weasley, but didn't wish to assume.

Potter himself took front and centre, poised and defiant in front of an unimpressed (but vaguely amused) Malik Ishtar. Rabastan fancied he saw a ripple of wind ruffle Potter's hair.

It was all very picturesque and dramatic and Rabastan very much wanted to comment but was once again reminded that Know-It-All had silenced him.

He scowled again.

Potter, completely oblivious to the synchronicity of his facial expressions, also scowled and attempted to make himself look taller. The fact that he was wearing a T-shirt that could have been inherited from a small killer whale and no less than three belts in an attempt to hold up his jeans did not help his cause. Neither did Malik Ishtar.

Nobody had ever made the mistake of saying that Malik was an _easy _person to deal with on a good day and, with the return of a nightmarish alter-ego prowling his subconscious, a brand new Sennen Item burning a hole in his left eye-socket and the words of a prophecy that foretold the doom of mankind echoing in his ears.. Malik was _not _having a good day.

"Well?"

One fair eyebrow rose high over the gleaming hunk of blood-encrusted gold that occupied his eye-socket. "Well _what?_"

Harry's frown deepened.

"Are you going to tell us?"

The corner of Malik's lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

"Tell you _what?_"

To Harry's right Ron bit back a growl and began a dramatic lunge towards the uncooperative Egyptian. This impressively heroic action, however, was thwarted by his younger sister unceremoniously latching onto his arm. Thus, what would certainly have been a dramatic gesture, resulted instead in an awkward looking twitch coursing through his body and a spastic flailing of his leg.

Rabastan felt a renewed sense of appreciation for the younger of the siblings.

Casting a filthy look Ginny's way, the youngest Weasley brother settled for snapping (with just the right touch of embarrassment to make the Death Eater's bitter heart go pitter-patter), "Tell us what is happening, you _sodding_ git!"

Malik's right eyebrow sauntered upward to join his left and his voice took on a sly intonation. "You should know by now that flattery will get you nowhere, Ronald."

Rabastan was mildly satisfied that if he couldn't infuriate the entire room with snide comments that someone was willing to do it for him.

"_Stop it_."

Malik's eye slid open to rest with minor surprise on Yuugi's face as he broke the troubled silence he'd been stewing in for the majority of the afternoon. The young King of Games' eyes were clouded but, even seated as he was, he looked ready to spring into action at any given moment.

The Egyptian didn't recall ever seeing Yuugi look so tense. Though he was betting the soft mutter of, "_Et tu, Brute?_" that slipped out wasn't helping either.

"_Please_ Malik," Yuugi bent forward in his fervour, brow creased with an anxiety that Malik was surprised he hadn't noticed in the host of the Pharaoh before now. "You know something.. I know you do."

"Of course I know _something_," the Egyptian drawled back with a chiding look in Yuugi's direction that drew an uncommon look of irritation across the King of Games face.

_"__**Ishtar**_.."

The threatening growl that the Pharaoh's voice attained sent oddly threatening tingles skittering down Malik's spine. He turned his head sharply back towards Harry, ignoring the ooze of smugness that seemed to permeate the air as he inclined his head towards the papers at his feet. "If you wouldn't mind."

Harry reached for the papers with some surprise, dropping them this time into Malik's lap and watching that singular lavender eye read the one, short note scrawled hastily in Kaiba's handwriting that laid on top.

"_Shaada_," Malik whispered aloud as his eye widened, all vestiges of amusement slipping away as he turned back towards the Pharaoh's imposing but curious figure. "Gods, Kaiba _wouldn't._"

"Kaiba wouldn't _what?_" Atemu asked sharply.

"It says," Hermione interrupted stiffly, "That he had already set a plan in place to '_put an end_' to your problems with the Ministry of Magic.. And that you should be hearing about it soon enough."

"_Hearing _about it?" Atemu repeated, crimson eyes narrowing shrewdly. "He isn't..?"

"Going straight for the source of the problem?" The decidedly bored and completely unsurprised sneer from Otogi's corner drew surprised stares from the occupants of the room (who had clearly forgotten he was present, a curiously re-occurring event for someone with such a flashy nature). They were in turn met with a scornful laugh. "What _else _would Kaiba do?"

"But," Yuugi gasped loudly, "they'll arrest him - they'll have him sent off to Azkaban!After all the trouble we've caused the Ministry of Magic.. What is Kaiba _thinking?_"

The faintly dazed look in Atemu's eyes wasn't helped by Ron's mutter of, "Or even worse."

"But.. Kaiba isn't _stupid_," the Pharaoh muttered, more to himself then his companions now, "He would have identified all the risks and eliminated them or deemed them necessary.. He'd be prepared for what Fudge could do.."

"Except," Ryou interrupted softly from the corner nearest the doorway, smiling faintly under the surprised stares he received that suggested they hadn't known he was there, "It isn't the _Wizards_ that Kaiba has to worry about.. Is it Malik?"

* * *

As the elevator doors slid shut behind him with an obnoxiously cheerful, '_ding!' _Seto realised that there was something terribly wrong with the scene before him. 

The duel disk that Seto had sent down before him sat relatively untouched and discarded on one of the work-benches and, perhaps slightly more important to Seto's suddenly heightened sense of suspicion, what should have been a laboratory filled to the brim with mad scientists fussing and flocking around said duel-disk, was instead a deserted, sterile white space.

The only other person in the vicinity was a faintly bored Douglas Jenson, shirt-sleeves rolled to the elbow and jacket discarded, lounging in a swivel chair with an odd smile splashed boldly across his unremarkable features.

"Mr. Kaiba," he greeted with nary a stutter as he rose to his feet, tugging at the knot that held his tie in place.

"Jenson," Seto replied coolly, the back of his neck already prickling as his fingers moved instinctually for the elevator controls. "Are you drunk?"

_Or insane, _he added inwardly as he surveyed the manic-excitement that had blossomed in his employees unremarkable eyes.

With a concerning amount of composure that was light-years away from the stuttering but dedicated employee, Jenson slipped a hand swiftly into his pocket and withdrew a long, thin and irritatingly _ironic_ piece of wood. Said instrument of irony was promptly directed at Seto with an overly dramatic flourish that really didn't suit the man before him at all.

Seto thought that he _really _should have seen that one coming.

' _He's a wizard._'

Set's voice punctuated the brief moment Seto had taken to absorb the absurdity of his situation, inappropriately brimming with droll amusement as he hissed, almost triumphantly, '_I knew nobody could possibly be _that_ boring._'

If Seto hadn't been intimately aware of the damage that those innocuous looking sticks could inflict, he might have succumbed to the overwhelming desire to scoff loudly and possibly, if the mood took him, laugh hysterically.

"Let's move away from the elevator if you please, Mr Kaiba, I think it's about time we had a proper chat - don't you?"

With a faint jerk of his wand he gestured for Seto to move, a gesture that Seto responded to with a growing feeling of annoyance that was in no way helped by the smug jibes that were currently ricocheting through his mind. He took one, casual step forwards and felt a swell of irritation rising towards the mocking presence in his own head.

"It's about time you showed your cards," Seto spoke, voice cold and as arrogantly abrasive as he could muster. "I assumed the spy was high in the chain of command."

It was a bluff and Seto was fairly sure the other man knew it, but if he had to put faith in anyone to pull off the plan that was scrambling together in some sprawling expanse of his mind, it would be himself.

"Hardly a _spy _Mr Kaiba," 'Jenson' retorted with a sneer. "_I _am James Dawlish, an Auror for the Ministry of Magic who has been working closely with the Department of Mysteries on your case for the past twelve years."

"A glorified cop then," Seto replied, trying to place where he'd heard the name Dawlish before as he took another step away from the elevator at the behest of a jerk of the Auror's wand.

The Wizard before him paused, eyes fixing sharply upon the elder Kaiba with an expression that spoke intimately of something that wasn't quite dislike. "Imagine my surprise to find out that the person at the centre of all of this destruction; of the breaking of so many of the most sacred and ancient magical laws, was little more than a child."

Seto balked at the insult before he could stop himself.

The peculiar expression that coloured the Wizard's expression faded back into that same, bizarre self-satisfied smile that he had been wearing when Seto had first arrived, a sign that Seto took to mean that the man thought he'd won some minor battle.

" I believe it was _you _who stopped by my office on your little jaunt to the Ministry," the Auror spoke again in an easy, conversational tone that reminded Seto intensely of one of the detectives who had spoken with him after Gozaburo's _unfortunate _end. "You of all people must know how _irritating_ it is when someone disrupts your system, Mr Kaiba."

The man fell silent, eyes glittering faintly under the harsh lighting before offering another of those strange smiles that seemed completely out of place on _Douglas Jenson'_s face. "I expect my notes made for some interesting reading then, Mr Kaiba?"

"_Interesting _is hardly the word that I would use.. Dawlish, was it?"

Seto schooled his features as his mind conjured the memory of a dimly lit hallway, despoiled by the sniping of a Priest and a Tomb Robber that were centuries dead but still squabbling like children.

"_Interesting _is precisely the word I would use to describe your doings over the past twelve years," the Auror bit back sharply, lips curling in a dangerous sneer. " I've been heading this investigation for the past five years. Documenting and deliberating over every move you've made - every secret you've tried to hide through this ridiculous set-up you've got here, slowly building the case that would have you rotting away your years in a nice festering VIP cell in Azkaban."

A short titter of laughter escaped the man and his dark eyes gleamed in the subdued light, "I never even dreamed of the dirt I would dig up when I took this job."

Seto's lips hardened into a thin line as something within his subconscious told him that this wasn't quite right. A face-down card lay before him, _trap or illusion?_

'_- I've warned you before about this Dawlish. Only Unspeakables are allowed down here. This information is classified, do you understand me?.._' (**2**.)

_Maybe both_, he realized as that half-overheard conversation surged into his mind. At the time seeming important only for it's second - at the time more sinister - ending.

'_Only Unspeakables are allowed down here._'

Something was definitely wrong here.

"_Soul-snatching? _There was a time that I had thought only _Gypsies _were capable of such barbarism."

He said the word Gypsies like it was a foul taste he was trying to spit from his mouth.

".. Summoning Merlin-knows-_what _kinds of demons and beasts.."

..Set had been awfully quiet.

With an obnoxiously cheerful '_ding!_' the elevator doors slid open behind him.

* * *

Karma, Malik thought dryly to himself, was a _bitch. _(**3.**) 

Mouth uncommonly dry as a solitary eye roamed the room, gauging the level of curiosity that sparked amongst each and every one of those very _direct _stares a shiver that had nothing to do with body-temperature rolled over his skin.

_Traitor_, something hissed in his mind.

He ignored it.

"_Well?_"

Malik couldn't tell whether it was Ryou or the dark spirit that was his burden that was talking. This realisation alone made him nervous.

_Traitor_, the voice purred again, amused.

_Shut. Up_.

"What is he talking about, Malik?"

Yuugi's eyes had that wounded puppy look to them that had always made Malik's insides twist into guilty knots for just existing. Today the feeling seemed intensified tenfold.

"I," he began, the single consonant sticking uncomfortably in his throat.

He tried again.

"I made a mistake."

_Understatement of the year_, he scoffed to himself.

Nobody seemed inclined to move on from the subject, their eyes boring impatient holes in the Egyptian from all directions.

Malik sighed aloud, single eye turning downwards to stare numbly at the carpet.

"It all started when we found the High Priests tomb."

.. _The air was thick and dry with ancient dust this deep into the weaving catacomb that made up their childhood underground home. They had rarely come this deep in those years, _unsafe_, they'd been told along with the obligatory mutters of cave-ins and unstable foundations._

_It made Malik wonder why Isis had come at all, how she had found anything so deep in these old and unfamiliar passages. They rarely returned to the underground prison that had stolen away their childhood under the pretences of _duty _and _honour.

_He suspected it had something to do with the dreams that had woken her, screaming, every night for what seemed to have been months now. _

"This is it Malik. Look," _she had breathed, eyes wide with wonderment as the torch she cradled in her arm cast light upon an elaborate mural that stretched from floor to ceiling. _

_The brilliant white serpentine figure that swirled, oddly life-like, across the great stone slab may have faded, its blue eyes not so piercing and its hide not so blindingly white, but there was no mistaking the form of the Blue Eyes White Dragon._

_There was no mistaking the great dragons purpose in this hall._

_A sentry._

_Which meant.._

"It's not possible," _his skepticism sounded shaky, even to him. _"How could it have been here all this time?"

_Isis wasn't listening. She was instead gently pressing a hand to the wall beside the great mural. Malik pulled her back by the shoulder just as the giant slab swung violently open, sending centuries of collected dust into the air in a choking cloud._

"How did you know it was here?"

_She smiled at him in that way that always made him feel like he was extremely dense._

_Malik bit his tongue and allowed her to lead him, shirt pulled up over his nose and mouth (just in case), into the swirling dark._

_The cavern was oddly simple, almost _sparse _for a funerary tomb of someone of such importance. In fact, the only _real _decoration that featured within the tomb were three murals. Each identical to the one that guarded the door they stared with unnerving intensity, guarding, from three of the four corners. The fourth corner was fitted instead with a huge, inscribed stone tablet. It was towards this that Malik moved instinctually, whilst his sister knelt, dewy-eyed, before the sarcophagus._

"It was like," Malik whispered,still adrift in memories, "We disturbed a curse that day. It was too easy. Too simple. The moment that I laid eyes on that tablet, everything went wrong. We never should have removed it. Never should have been there."

_Traitor_, the voice mocked.

He forced himself to continue.

"There was a team that we hired to help with the translation. Isis had enough contacts to make finding the bodies easy, none of them knew what it was or where it had been found. It was when we were translating.. Well that's when _they _first started showing up."

_It was _hot.

_The air-conditioning was blasting through the vents but it didn't seem to matter._

_Malik was used to the heat - some of the other workers, however, could not claim the same._

_Cradling a bottle of water protectively in his hands, Malik eyed the American with vague interest from his point of the floor. His shirt was dark with sweat, skin flushed and shining as he gulped down water and squinted in the direction of the towering stone tablet that dwarfed all else in the room._

_Abruptly the man turned and grinned at the Egyptian, swiping beads of sweat from his cheeks before ambling over to sit down next to him._

"Magnificent" _he'd declared with an enthusiasm that Malik had found was beginning to dwindle and be replaced with foreboding in his own heart, _"what a code. I've never seen anything like it."

_Malik had nodded back, taking a sip from his bottle of water and frowning at the towering structure. He could hear raised voices floating down through one of the air-vents._

_It sounded like Rishiid._

_Abruptly the door that led down into their makeshift study was thrown open and two figures, swathed in swirling black robes were silhouetted against the comparatively bright back-light. _

_Malik's stomach clenched._

"We are looking for Isis Ishtar" _demanding and absurdly European against the curious mumblings in Eastern tongues. _

_Isis turned, staring up the staircase at the figures with grim understanding._

"You are _not_ welcome here."

"They were everywhere after that, always in the corner of our eyes. Isis would never tell me what she knew, why she was so scared of them. But her dreams got worse after that.. Every single night she would scream herself hoarse but she would never tell me what it was."

The Egyptian paused for breath, trying to look anywhere but at the faces that surrounded him. His gaze drifted towards his feet and he chewed his lip awkwardly before continuing.

"It turned out that they weren't just nightmares that Isis had been having. She was having visions again, terrifying visions that she couldn't control and could barely understand. But it was all about the tablet, that was what _they _wanted and that, I guess, is why _he _came again."

_It was already twilight when Malik clambered out of the underground laboratory that had become their entire lives over the past few months. Months dedicated to the deciphering of a code so intricate that Malik knew it could be years before any of their gathered brains could make sense of it. To them it was a challenge, a thrill._

_To him it spelt trouble with a capital T._

_The layers of sweat that had gathered within the stiflingly hot confines of their makeshift lab began to cool against his skin as he hurried down the streets, ignoring the flutters of black material that caught his vision in all directions._

_He was being followed, but Gods, that was nothing new._

_He hastened his steps further until he was almost running, ignoring the titters of accented laughter that seemed to burn in his ears from all directions._

_They were everywhere._

_Over the weeks since that first arrival, their presence seemed to have been steadily more oppressive. Malik had watched as Isis grew pale with exhaustion, dark smudges of blue seemed a permanent decoration to her face with every day that she repeated that same, solemn reproach that at first had seemed to snap the air itself apart with strength. _'You are _not_ welcome here.'

_And everyday, it seemed to lose some of it's power. Draining away that stately elegance that she had always carried within her, pulling at the fibres of her being until the edges began to fray and threads began to unravel. Every day she seemed more harried and hassled, less of her old self and more of a distracted, nervous wreck._

_Malik was worried about her and Risihiid was worried about him._

_But that day, as he hurried home with a sheaf of pencil rubbings stashed carefully beneath his shirt, for fear that those black-robed figures would suddenly appear to snatch them from his grasps, Malik knew that something was desperately wrong._

_He did run then, ignoring a wheezy, breathy giggle to his left as his he pounded down the darkening streets towards the small apartment that Isis rented in the city, close enough to their project to be there within minutes of any revelations or disasters, but now seeming miles._

_When he reached the apartment, chest heaving and with a stabbing pain lacing through his ribs, Malik pounded up the staircase not surprised to see the door to their apartment flung wide open or to hear the sound of laughter.. _

_He skidded to halt within the doorway, eyes attaching with dreadful realization upon the prone, lifeless figure whose beautiful black hair was now scattered across the dirty floor. Her eyes were open, not a mark on her, but he knew she was dead._

_The woman standing over her, mask removed but black robes affirming her for what she was, lifted her face to the doorway and smiled to see him, her laugh a wild and excited testament to her mood. '_We've been waiting for you.'

_And Malik, with a stitch in his side and sobs joining the heaving breaths that he was already struggling to take, ran._

_Her laughter followed after._

"I don't know how long it was that I spent hiding in the streets, trying to find a way out of there with only the clothes I was wearing and those damn pencil rubbings to my name. They nearly caught me a few times, always telling me that I would be safe. That their Master would let me live if I just told them about the ritual."

The Egyptian gave a tired, careless smile and lifted his head to regard his audience hesitantly, not wanting to see the pity that was lingering on the edges of their eyes and knowing that it certainly wouldn't last.

"That's when _he _showed up."

_Malik didn't know how long it had been since he'd left Isis' dead body behind him, but he felt as if he were carrying her everywhere with him. Her weight hung over his shoulders, his mind. _

_He was tired, he was hungry and he smelt really bad; but none of that seemed to compare with the ever-present never dwindling prickle of fear that continued to course through him. He didn't know what had become of Rishiid and perhaps, that scared him more than the idea that Isis was lying dead somewhere._

Malik,' _she would whisper sometimes in his dreams when he drifted off_. _He sometimes thought that maybe she was trying to tell him something important. _

_It was maybe his fifth day in hiding when he felt the awkward prickling of awareness that made his flesh tingle and his heart began to jack-hammer in his chest. The noise of the city sunk away, as though muffled by some unseen barrier and Malik saw him, staring with those eerie pupil-less eyes._

Shaadi,' _he had muttered, feeling the _thump-thump _of his heart pick up even more._

'You have a part to play,' _the mystic had replied, seeming to glide closer without Malik even realizing it. _'It is your duty, Malik Ishtar, to your Pharaoh and the people of this world. You must play your part as others have played theirs.'

_Malik found himself capable of little other than staring._

'You must ensure the High Priest knows his duty. You _must _make this happen. The Pharaoh is too trusting of those he would consider allies.'

_The apparitions milky-blue eyes fixed with unnerving intensity upon Malik and somehow, without the man even saying it, Malik knew that it all had to do with the tablet and the paper-rubbings that were currently bundled up against his chest. _

"He told me," Malik murmured now, eyes cast aside from the faces that surrounded him, "That going through with the ritual was the only way that the Pharaoh would be able to save the world. It was supposed to stop the destruction. To finish it all."

He began to laugh, loudly, bitterly and ignored the soft murmuring that sounded like accusations to his ears.

"He _told _me," he repeated, singular eye blazing, "that it was my job to make sure that the Priest got the translation of the ritual and that he tested his power. That he _used _his power. That he grew strong again, so that when the time came, the power would be great enough to fulfil it's purpose. But now I know better."

The Egyptian's chin lifted abruptly, defiantly, "The _ritual _was never about saving the world. It was about bringing something back that was never _intended _to walk this world. There never _was _any great threat to the Pharaoh - no challenge to be overcome."

To the outward observer the misery that had begun to escape onto Malik's features was ugly to look upon. He shook his head furiously, "_Shaada _had only one goal in mind when he orchestrated his plans, when he told Yuugi to give Kaiba the Rod. When he told me to take the Sennen Eye for myself. When he began planting ideas in the heads of these Wizards all those years ago."

It seemed apparent that the toll of keeping the entire, ugly story holed up inside himself had been heavy. Malik looked strangely weak as he slumped against his chair, the ropes shifting awkwardly and that one, golden eye gleaming in his left eye-socket.

"I know now what Isis saw every night in her dreams that left her screaming, I know why she tried for so long to keep _them _from getting to the tablet. She had _seen _it, had known that her death would not prevent it, but tried none the less. She was trying to stop it from happening, all because some arrogant little prat in Battle City had told her that you _can _change Destiny, and proven it as well."

And to the surprise of those who still watched him, spell-bound, tears began to splash down his face and he seemed to crumble into himself. The facade of snide remarks and amusement cracked away and all that was left behind was a miserable child who could see the world crumbling down around him.

"Malik?"

Yuugi's voice was soft and frightened, his eyes fixed intensely upon the person who he knew he didn't have a hope of understanding, "What did she see?"

When the face turned back upwards there was an odd smile stretched across those lips and single lilac eye was alight.

"The end," that voice purred back happily. "She saw the end."

* * *

Mokuba Kaiba really didn't like being told what to do. 

He supposed it could be attributed, at large, to his rather unusual upbringing (if you could really call it _that_) or perhaps, it was just woven into the Kaiba DNA. Whatever it was, he knew that he shouldn't be letting said dislike colour his actions.

However..

Seto had a long history of doing unbelievably stupid things that defied his utterly brilliant mind and Mokuba knew it. He had seen his brother, time and time again, throw himself into absurd situations that held little hope of a happy outcome.

Mokuba thought that, that too, must be woven into the Kaiba DNA.

He punched impatiently at the button labelled with a _B _and felt the elevator glide smoothly through floor after floor, the odd twinge that in his stomach that often accompanied disobeying his brother's orders increasing through each passed floor.

Because something wasn't right, Mokuba knew it and he suspected that Seto did too. Something wasn't right and once again Seto had tried to send him running. To keep him out of the way.

"Not this time 'nii-sama," he muttered aloud as the glowing numbers decreased faster and faster. "Not this time."

And the elevator doors slid open with an obnoxiously cheerful, '_ding!_'.

* * *

There were times when Ryuuji Otogi wished that he had never met Yuugi Mutou. 

Times when he thought that his life would be so much simpler, so much easier and so much _safer. _It was a curious fact that his father's thirst for revenge against a lecherous old man had, in fact, led to his son forming the one intricate bond of friendship that would forever change him.

If he had never met Yuugi Mutou, Otogi would probably have lived out a frivolous existence spent obliterating the profits from his entrepreneurial success in an abhorrently shallow fashion.

If he had never met Yuugi Mutou, he would never have experienced the absolute lows that the human soul could go to. He never would have seen the darkness that could infest the mind of a person when they had nowhere to go but the cold, damp space that imprisoned them.

If he had never met Yuugi Mutou, Ryuuji Otogi would never really have lived.

Staring numbly at the shadow that currently inhabited Malik Ishtar, Otogi found himself adrift in the realization that the Egyptian had been masterfully played by an even more skilled manipulator than his father and he couldn't help but realize that Seto Kaiba, and in turn all of them, would end up paying the price.

What that price was..

There were so many connotations that surrounded those words.

The. End.

Like the end of those childhood fairy tales that had been cleaned up for commercial use, but that his grandmother had used to tell him in all their violent glory. But they always ended well. Mostly.

_And they all lived happily ever after. _

The end.

Otogi didn't think that this would end that way.

He wondered how he had been caught up in this all, how he had become a part of something that was so much bigger than him. He wondered how he could be considering helping these people, _Wizards_, who deserved nothing from him other than his contempt.

It hurt to think about.

'_You want that happily ever after._'

It was a ludicrous statement, but it was true enough and Otogi regarded the hovering shade beside him in silent contemplation. Sirius Black had never been one to mince words. Neither was Otogi Ryuuji.

'_Yes,' _he thought solemnly, regarding the spirit beside him before turning green eyes upon the stunned collection of human beings that were just beginning to feel the connotations of Malik Ishtar's words sink in._ 'But I don't want the end._'

The transparent reflection of Sirius Black smiled, those storm-tossed gray eyes gleaming strangely in the air, as like a wisp of smoke, he rose to his feet and made a show of gallantly offering an arm to the Game Creator.

'_You best do something about it then._'

* * *

**Footnotes:  
**  
1. This would refer, of course, to the early months of 1981, when Duran Duran first hit the music scene. They were so quintessentially 80s that I couldn't bear the thought of using anyone else. 

**2**. Very rarely is anything in this story a coincidence. Remember that.

**3. **The title, this sentiment and the little quotation at the bottom are all part of the link to what has to be one of my favourite songs of all time. Anyone who can name it gets to be a super-secret-Ninja for the day. Seriously.

* * *

**AN: **It's been over a year since I last updated (as some of you have kindly pointed out in an endeavour to nudge me into actually doing something about it. I love you for it.) and finally something resembling inspiration and the time to do something about it emerged. Fancy that? Perhaps the fact that I don't have any deadlines now for another 7 weeks has suddenly hit me over the head with gusto. Perhaps reading the final Harry Potter book finally lit that spark beneath me and resurged my love for the fandom. Who knows? The fact is, that while this might be a tad short, it's something and it's dedicated to everyone who has ever reviewed this monstrosity with the delicate intentions of getting me to update. I'm a little squiffy about how Malik's story was revealed (the whole _flashback _plot device makes me cringe somewhat) but I'm glad it's over with. All things come to a head.. Hopefully the next chapter won't be half so long in the writing.

* * *

"_Instant Karma's gonna get you;  
Gonna knock you right off your feet.  
Better recognise your Brother,  
is everyone you meet._"


	33. Reciprocity

**

* * *

**

**Summary:**When a politically charged Magical world in turmoil suddenly becomes his problem, Kaiba finds that not all fairy-tales are just stories and sometimes, in the absence of a hero, even a reluctant Anti-Hero will do. **HPYGO**  
**Warnings:**May contain traces of minor-Shounen Ai, a good dash of nasty language and a side-serving of occasional death.

* * *

_**Chasing the Dragon**_

**- Chapter Thirty Two -  
**Reciprocity.

_- Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus _-

* * *

Silence.

It had held court within the dingy little living room for longer than Rabastan had ever thought _bearable_. Nothing but god-awful silence and two little words ringing in every single person in that rooms ears. _The End._ Like the curtain call had come and the whole world had just been shrouded in thick red velvet drapes.

There was horror etched into those words, as if the whole population of the room had suddenly lost the ability (or the will) to speak. As if the whole world had just been stricken dumb by two stupid little words that were far more suited to the end of those horribly clichéd children's stories that had been fashionable when people still wore suspenders and knickerbockers.

Two stupid words that had never been more terrifying than when they spilled from the lips of the half-delusional Malik Ishtar that was currently staring vapidly at the ceiling with that one, unnaturally lilac eye.

_And this_, Rabastan couldn't help but think to himself as he observed the distinct _non__-_action of this room of supposed action heroes, _is why the bad guys always seem to get that fighting chance. They're all a bunch of flippin' drama queens._

Pointedly the Death Eater began to stamp his foot against the carpeted ground in an effort to break that hideous silence.

Know-it-All seemed to snap out of whatever melodramatic trance she had slipped into to give him a foul look and Rabastan considered his job almost well done. It was around about the time that her eyes widened and the, "_Oh!_" of an epiphany was practically written all over her face that he thought that maybe, just maybe, he should have let that silence lie for a while.

".. Why was Voldemort so interested in the tablet?"

Her voice was almost deafening as it broke the almost tangible silence and it took several moments for the rest of the room to gather their thoughts sufficiently to process her question.

Hermione, realising that she was now the centre of attention, felt her cheeks burn and hurriedly sought to explain herself, "I mean, I _know _it's horrible and everything and there's probably more important things to be worrying about, but what exactly is the ritual for that Voldemort would be so interested in it as to _kidnap_ him for information?"

The witch turned upon Rabastan, her eyes determined and with a swish of her wand he felt the silencing charm lift.

"_Why_?"

Her tone was demanding and distinctly McGonagallian in a way that brought a shiver of nostalgia cascading down Rabastan's back.

"Why do you _think _he'd want it," Rabastan snarled back, oddly defensive in the face of that too familiar tone, "Why does he want _anything_?"

It was Potter who answered that question, without needing to give it even cursory thought. "Power."

Rabastan eyed the boy with interest for a moment or two, thinking that perhaps Potter wasn't quite so useless, quite so _dense _as the Dark Lord insisted he was.

"From what we managed to decipher, that ritual was created with the intention of bestowing it's recipient with the power of a _god_," Rabastan obliged with an entirely subconscious amount of enthusiasm, waiting for the expressions of horror to return with a familiar rush of sick anticipation. "The Dark Lord fears nothing more than he fears death. He believed it might just provide him with that last, elusive goal of immortality."

"Not just the power of a _god_," came a dark, irritable growl from the window sill which Ryou Bakura had been leaning against. The Tomb Robber eyed the Death Eater much as one might eye a foolish child, "The power of the _Pharaoh_. The God-King himself."

Bakura seemed as disgruntled by the revelation as he was interested, his vivid scarlet eyes turning contemplatively to where the Pharaoh himself sat. "Such a ritual would be advantageous to any who were capable of performing it. No wonder the Priest kept it so quiet."

"It's _wrong_," came the angry hiss from Malik Ishtar that sent Harry, Hermione, Ron and Ginny skittering back a few steps. They hadn't even realised that the Egyptian was still paying attention.

"What do you mean, Ishtar?"

The Pharaoh's voice was sharp, his eyes snapping from Bakura to the Egyptian with a warning that was clearly read by both, a sign that all of the tension in the room was getting to _him_ too.

"Shaada _lied_," the Egyptian snarled, half-laughing as his frustration at _their _inability to understand became so apparent that the wizards and witches before him took another step back and the Sennen Eye began to gleam softly in the dull light.

Rabastan, clearly remembering what had happened the last time that that _eye _had started miraculously producing it's own light, found himself struggling once again with the bonds that secured him to his chair. There was no bloody way that _he_was getting sucked into some Muggle card-game, especially if it meant he'd be stuck there with _Rodolphus._

Clearly he'd missed something vitally important in translating the blasted tablet and trying to interpret the hazy ramblings of that Gypsy Seer. Something that had caused the blond kid to completely lose the plot.

_The end._

And suddenly, Rabastan felt something click into place.

"Gods," he mumbled to himself, knowing that he must look like a slack-jawed yokel but completely incapable of doing anything about it. "_Gods._"

"Could you save your mental break-down for somebody who _cares_?" the Weasley kid snapped in his direction.

Rabastan favoured him with one of his particularly _nasty _stares. "No, you _moron_, Gods, as in, _plural_. Power of the _Gods_. The translation was _gods _not god."

_The end._

It had been so long since his Curse Breaking days that Rabastan could barely access those memories, so buried beneath the levels of torment that so many years in Azkaban had laid upon his psyche. What was he missing?

_Gods_.

The others were watching him now, with a hawk-like interest as he struggled with his own memory.

"It was supposed to release the power of the Gods," he half-mumbled, chewing his lip and frowning as he tried to recite the words of the prophecy through his mind.

_And all the world shall tremble beneath their mighty feet_.

Oh. Fuck.

"..Release the gods."

Oh _fuck_.

Ishtar's one, eerie lilac eye watched him knowingly, mouth curled in that distorted smile that made even Rabastan's flesh crawl.

"_The end shall come_," the Egyptian sing-songed under his breath.

* * *

It was a curious fact that, unlike many species, dragons were born with a considerable amount of awareness. From a very young age, baby dragons possessed much of the cunning, tenacity and wily nature of their elder counterparts.

And, like all dragons great or small, they were completely enamoured with shiny objects.

This was perhaps how, just over two nights ago, a small baby dragon had clambered into the open luggage of a departing Seto Kaiba, having caught sight of a gleaming silver buckle.

At first the dragon had been very pleased with himself, having found that upon entering the luggage there had been plenty more shining silver buckles and the like stowed away amidst a nest of the finest materials that money could by. It had made for an excellent nest until around the time that the luggage had been securely fastened and then hoisted out a window.

Luckily dragons are hardy creatures and even their young are possessed of the thickest of hides, unfortunately that didn't mean that he didn't feel the two decidedly _rude _landings that had been made upon his nest afterwards.

If it hadn't been such a good nest he might have been tempted to take a bite out of whoever had decided to disrupt him. But dragons are fickle creatures and it didn't take long for the dragon to settle down to sleep.

For two whole days the dragon had slept quite comfortably, nestled in Italian leather with the voices of the tall human that he really quite liked and the _old one _were enough to persuade him that this was a much nicer place to sleep than the damp room where the two _fire-_heads snored.

And so the dragon might have continued to sleep, if it hadn't been for one, unfortunate affliction that had troubled this particular baby dragon since his birth.

He sneezed.

The moment that the acrid smell of burning began to rise from a piece of luggage that had been discarded disinterestedly in the corner of the master bedroom of the apartment above Kaiba Corp London, fire detectors throughout the building began to shriek and sprinklers descended from the ceilings to douse everything in sight and in the lower levels of the building chaos descended.

The dragon, thoroughly disgruntled by even the muffled shrieking of the alarms began to wriggle it's way out of what had been a perfectly good nest, completely impervious to the heat of it's own flames and after several minutes of frustrated struggle, managed to tear itself free of the luggage.

It immediately shrank back as soon as water touched it's skin, wrinkling up it's face in much the manner of a disgruntled cat before slinking, low to the ground, across the new foreign environment to hide, quivering under the bed.

There it waited, eyes an ominous shade of black as he surveyed the new territory that he found himself in. Taking precious moments to observe the water as it drizzled down over the plush white carpet, to examine the rain-lashed, stormy city-scape that was visible through the floor-to-ceiling glass pane and finally to peer through the open door.

Assured that there were no dangers between him and the doorway, the dragon slunk hurriedly from his hiding place to the doorway, determined to explore the rest of his new found territory.

There were hundreds of new smells in this place, completely and utterly new to the dragon. There wasn't the old musty, _sneeze-_worthy scent of wizard-magic lingering around every corner, or the smell of tea-leaves and dust that had populated his previous home. Instead there was the eye-watering smell of over-cleanliness, like the soap that the _fire_-head had used the one and only time he had ever tried to bathe him.

But along with those smells were more familiar ones - the _Tall One's_ smell was everywhere, along with that of the _Shorter One _who was brother to him and he could even sense the _Old One's _magic, lingering in the air. These smells were comforting in such a foreign environment.

Pleased at his discoveries the dragon slunk along the plush white carpet which was slowly absorbing more and more water from the fire-sprinklers and had begun to squelch with every clawed foot that was placed upon it.

Disgruntled by the water that dripped over his scales and the shrill alarms that hurt his ears, the baby dragon set forth in search of something familiar with a new goal in mind: _find the Tall One_.

* * *

There had been a time, a very _long _time ago, when Seto Kaiba had been genuinely, sickeningly happy. It had been a time when he did not understand about car crashes, orphanages or adoption and the most responsibility he'd ever had was to put his toys back in the chest when he was finished playing with them.

Granted, Seto had been something of a special child even _then_and his toys had more often consisted of chess pieces and a deck of cards than stuffed animals, but Seto had been _happy_.

The concept of such uncomplicated times in his life was more than Seto could grasp these days, it seemed ludicrous to him that his life had ever been so simple.

But not so long ago, when his life had suddenly become even more complicated than it had any right to be, Seto Kaiba had stumbled into something that had reminded him of those times. That strange box of an office buried beneath an ordinary urban London street that had seemed, at the time, like something out of a horror movie. A cross between a serial killer's lair and a film noir detective's den. It had made him sick to his stomach. Seto knew that _that _kind of fixation was beyond a healthy mind and it had been so plainly about _him _that it had almost been too much to grasp.

The strange thing about being acquainted with a hero, for that was almost certainly what Yuugi Mutou _was_, was that you came to accept that all the big things were never really about _you._

Seto had strode boldly into enemy territory with the certainty that whatever it was that was happening, it wasn't about him. Sure, in the past Seto had had his fair share of scrapes with power-hungry executives willing to do anything to get a hold of his company or get revenge for some wrongdoing. But in the big things, the ones that counted in the _grand scheme _of life, he had always been just a guest - someone hauled along for the ride who could lend a bit of attitude and interest to Mutou's friendship squad.

Mutou was always the wholesome main, he was just a spicy entrée. **(1.)**

It was something that Seto Kaiba had never particularly enjoyed up until the point that he had walked into that office.

To find something that was so clearly about him had upset the balance that Seto hadn't realised he'd come to rely on. To find pieces of his past tacked methodically all over the walls of a small office hidden deep within a secret government, somehow, had managed to strike at a place within him that he had thought was long gone.

On those walls had been his life. From an aged photograph of his parents that he had never laid eyes upon before, to adoption papers and medical records. That strange shoebox of an office had housed the most guarded and intimate secrets of his life - a photograph of his father teaching him to play chess, his mother cradling Mokuba in her arms. They were the ghosts of a life he had buried after the car crash and the orphanage and a man named Gozaburo Kaiba.

It had opened a door inside of himself to see his life on parade, to feel memories laying siege to his senses.

_Seto Kaiba; this is your life._

He had _remembered _feeling happy and somehow it had made everything so much _worse_. He couldn't comprehend how people could stand it, to feel so _much _only to have it stripped cruelly away. Remembering had been unbearable, so Seto had done the only thing he knew _how _to do, he had buried it. Dove headfirst into a world, a war and a life that he knew nothing about because he _needed _for it all to be finished.

'_Well omote_,' the Spirit's voice interrupted Seto's thoughts, '_If this is your plan than I was right. It's terrible._'

'_My plan_,' Seto informed the Spirit with a flicker of agitation, '_Is working perfectly well, thank you._'

'_Oh_,' the Spirit's voice was so _painfully _sarcastic that Seto had to fight to keep his expression under control, '_So you _wanted _to get caught by the crazy wizard whose been stalking you since childhood and posing as one of your employees. My mistake, I thought that that counted as a _stupid _idea.'_

If Set had not been a non-corporeal spirit, he may have been facing a long overdue visit to the judgement of _Maat _around about then.

Luckily, for the spirit of the Sennen Rod, at the precise moment that murder had begun to cross Seto Kaiba's mind, the elevator doors behind him rolled open with a clear, nauseatingly cheerful, '_ding!_'

The distraction was exactly the opening that Seto had been waiting for.

It all happened so fast that Dawlish, still crowing triumphantly over his impending victory, didn't see him coming.

One minute Kaiba had been restrained by wand-point, the next the elevator had opened to reveal a startlingly _empty _lift and then the Auror had hit the floor like a tonne of bricks, his head cracking against the concrete foundation with a sickening thud, Seto Kaiba crouched over him and his wand conspicuously absent.

For all of his Auror training, James Dawlish had forgotten that Muggles tended to take a more _direct _approach to their own brand of violence. It was something that James Dawlish knewhe would come to regret.

Dawlish had known, when he had been just an Auror-in-training assigned to a largely unimportant case about some irregular magical activity that the department had been collaborating on with the Japanese and Egyptian governments meant to foster skills in dealing with foreign governments, that what they _had _was bigger than his superiors had believed it to be.

Dawlish had known, from the first time he'd glimpsed the kid, that Seto Kaiba was Extremely Dangerous (warranting the extra capitalisation, he was assured). The other governments had been more interested in the other players, his own superiors more concerned with an Ex-National by the name of Bakura Ryou and Fudge (who had been largely uninterested in the whole thing until a few months ago) had been interested in saving his own skin, but Dawlish had been sure that Kaiba was the danger.

And then he'd met the Egyptian.

It had been almost four years ago now, the first time he'd encountered him. A tall man in swirling white robes and a turban that had put Dawlish in mind of _Arabian Nights_, genies and magical lamps. At first he had thought that the man must have been one of their Egyptian contacts, he'd quickly learned otherwise.

The Egyptian's words had been etched with power and had echoed in his mind for weeks then months then years. _Watch Seto Kaiba_, had been the binding, sharp command that Dawlish had found himself unable to refuse and unable to forget and he had taken his charge very, very seriously.

He had holed up in a small room in the Department of Mysteries right under the Unspeakables noses and started _collecting_ in his spare time. Anything and everything he could get his hands on, because now he was _certain _that Seto Kaiba had to be stopped.

The next time the Egyptian appeared, he had found himself inexplicably in the heart of the Department of Mysteries staring, open mouthed at a dusty prophecy orb dated some twenty or so years previously, a single black star scrawled next to the names on the label that read:

_R.O. to G. C. P._

_(?) and (?)._

Next to the question marks someone had scrawled in spidery, flowing writing, _Seto Kaiba _and _Yuugi Mutou._

He had applied for a job at Kaiba Corp London the next morning with his superiors never knowing a thing. Then had been the fiasco with the Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic and hundreds of prophecies had been destroyed, dozens more knocked free of their shelves and spirited away by Death Eaters and amongst them had been the one Dawlish had wanted most.

All that he had learned since that day had only compounded what the Egyptian had told him so many years ago, _He is a danger to your world_.

And since Kaiba's first appearance in the magical world, he had done nothing but prove it. Dawlish had been delighted to find that the man he had been investigating on his own time for five years had suddenly become a priority to his superiors. A trail of destruction had been left in Seto Kaiba's wake and suddenly all of the clues and evidence that Dawlish had been scraping to find in the blue-eyed man's past had been plain for all to see.

It had been this very morning that the Egyptian had appeared again, like a desert mirage on the other side of the water-cooler. Dawlish had known then that today was the day he had waited so long for. The turbaned mystic had stared at him unblinkingly as that strange golden glow that he had come to associate with the man spilled over him.

He had known then what to do as if it had been his plan all along.

Kaiba had handed him all the concrete evidence he would _ever _need to have him thrown in Azkaban for the rest of his life in the form of an accessory to a childish _card _game. It had only taken five minutes of careful probing of Kaiba's brand new _Duel Disk _to find it laced with summoning magic that had been so powerful, so tangible it had singed his fingers and left them achingly numb. Who _knew _what the thing would do if someone were to actually use it as the elder Kaiba intended. **(2.)**

Whatever the kid was, and for all the snooping he'd conducted in secret in the Department of Mysteries under those Unspeakables' noses Dawlish had yet to determine just _what _to call Kaiba's brand of dark magic, he had to be stopped.

Unfortunately that was considerably more difficult when you had no wand and said _kid _who was faster and stronger than his tall, thin frame betrayed, had one buckled, black boot planted firmly on your chest.

Seto's voice was cold and mocking as he spoke, "Do your superiors even know you're _here_, Dawlish?"

Dawlish felt his breath catch in his chest and found himself unable to speak under the sheer force of _power _that he could see in those startlingly blue eyes. The anger that had always simmered within him at his superiors inability to see the danger that the elder Kaiba brother presented rose through him.

An odd, grim smile twitched at the corners of the elder Kaiba brother's lips and, like _magic_, in one hand he now held a gleaming, golden rod with a stylized Egyptian eye at one. That heavy boot ground down a little harder against his chest and as the elder Kaiba leaned down over him a locket that looked remarkably like a playing card slipped from beneath the elder Kaiba's shirt to dangle several feet in the air over Dawlish's nose.

"I'm not a patient man, Dawlish," Seto confided.

Dawlish watched, transfixed, while the rod in his hands twirled nimbly through long, thin fingers.

"You should be in Azkaban," the Auror spat out dazedly as he managed to draw his eyes from the mesmerising effects of that gold, "I've _seen_ how your magic works."

"_That_," Kaiba spoke softly, lips curled in an odd expression and his eyes suddenly seemed darker, "Was _not_ what I asked."

With the faintest of frowns Seto traced his thumb over the _Udjat_ on the end of the rod.

'_Something's not right here omote_,' the Spirit opined, and Seto felt the odd sensation of having the other survey the scene through his eyes, '_He is influenced in some way._'

A roar of, _"Expelliarmus!_" had the rod flying violently in one direction while Seto stumbled back in another.

'_And apparently_,' Set noted with amusement, '_He found his wand_.'

'_And if you hadn't distracted me_,' Seto snarled back as he recovered his footing and ducked a jet of red light that had been fired rapidly after the first spell, '_He wouldn't have had the chance to use it_._'_

The Auror had regained his feet and was showing exactly _why _he held his position in the Ministry. "_Impedimenta!"_

The force of the spell caught Seto on one shoulder, sending him spinning awkwardly into the work-bench on which his Duel Disk still sat. He barely had time enough to scoop his new invention from the bench and throw himself out of the way before it exploded in a shower of splinters.

He hurriedly upended another bench and ducked behind it as spells soared passed him and with an ease that came from familiarity Seto slid the prototype Duel Disk onto his wrist. Somehow, having that piece of technology that he had built from scratch cradling his wrist made the entire situation seem that little bit more bearable.

'_Keep moving!_' Set's voice bellowed through his head.

It appeared that the Spirit of the Rod didn't find their predicament so _funny _anymore.

Seto launched himself over the felled bench and leaped for the Auror, slamming both of them to the ground with a crash. His fingers locked around the man's wrists, directing the wand away from him as the Auror bellowed, "_Stupefy!_"

The spell buzzed passed Seto's ear as he wrestled with the other man, who, having lost his wand once already, wasn't giving it up without a fight. Angry red sparks flared in Seto's vision and he jerked backwards, releasing the man's wrists in surprise.

In the same moment that Seto fell backwards and James Dawlish rose his wand to stun his opponent, a shrill screeching ripped through the air and a fine mist of water doused the room as sprinklers descended from the ceiling.

It was also this precise moment that Set decided to take matters into his own hands.

To the Auror, the difference was _almost_ imperceptible.

It was like a dark shadow had rolled through the elder Kaiba's body and settled in his eyes, a darkness that was unlike any that _he _had ever witnessed before. The man's eyes were like the deepest, darkest waters of the ocean - a crushing blue that had caught him and threatened to swallow him whole.

"Put your wand down."

The power in that command seemed to snap with magic and Dawlish was bewildered to find that he had, quite against his own will, done just as the spirit had told him.

Ancient eyes watched him and the Auror realised that at some point, the golden Rod that he had been _sure _he had sent flying to the other side of the room, had returned to Set's grasp.

In a single, graceful movement the High Priest regained his feet and now he watched, eyes unfathomably cold as Dawlish found himself scrambling to regain his own feet.

"_Stay_," the blue-eyed man commanded.

The Auror sank back down on the floor in a bewildered heap, the beginnings of fear leaking into his eyes as he realised that he couldn't _move_.

_Kohl_-lined eyes watched, amused as the Auror's face turned white and hands began to tremble, the wand still clutched in his grasp rendered utterly useless. _This man_, Set observed with a dark anger that was seeping slowly through his being, _has been hunting you, omote_.

The Auror registered, with the absurdity of growing hysteria, that there were drops of water beginning to collect on his opponent's eyelashes.

_He thought that he could attack us and _win.

A slow smile twisted the High Priest's lips, his head cocked to one side to better observe the panicking wizard.

When he spoke, Set's voice was like silk.

"_How would you like to play a game?_"

* * *

Yuugi Mutou had always been a big believer in the idea of destiny.

He believed that he was meant to receive the Sennen Puzzle, that he was predestined to be the one to solve it. He believed that the Pharaoh and him had always been fated to share souls and that all of their journeys together were part of a path that had been set out before them by fate.

Yuugi had faith that all of those things were _meant _to happen. The entire situation that lay before him, however, was wrong.

Shaadi, as Yuugi knew him, had for a long time been an instrumental player in the role of the Sennen Items and how they functioned in the world. He had trusted the mystic in this role since the day he had first met the man. Yuugi was beginning to realise that _that_ had been a mistake.

Yuugi had found himself caught in a web of manipulation and only now was it beginning to unravel, strand by strand and the bigger picture was something that Yuugi wasn't sure he _wanted _to see. Malik appeared to be the only one who had _seen _the bigger picture in it's entirety and, well, _that _had turned out well.

The Egyptian was half-lost inside of his own mind, tormented by the realisation of what he had done and hunted by the darkness that prowled his subconscious.

'_Not exactly a good sign_,' the King of Games sighed half to himself, half to the spirit of the Pharaoh that was currently in possession of his body.

The Pharaoh who was preoccupied with the Death Eater who had been muttering to himself for the past few minutes with an intense concentration that was intriguing to watch, found his eyes drawn back to the source of his host's concern.

'_He's struggling_,' was the Pharaoh's solemn response.

For all of Malik Ishtar's past trespasses against them, the Spirit of the Puzzle couldn't help but feel badly for the Egyptian. He was beginning to think that Yuugi was rubbing off on him.

".. Release the gods."

The Pharaoh's head snapped back in the direction of the Death Eater, whose face had suddenly been stripped of colour and eyes were wide with surprised realisation.

Malik's expression was all-knowing, his rejoinder soft and taunting, "_The end shall come._"

An odd chill spread through the Pharaoh at those words, a stirring of something familiar hidden deep within the labyrinth of his mind teasing his thoughts.

"_Can't _be possible," the Death Eater was rambling to himself beneath his breath, "_Those _are just legends, _myths_, people just trying to organise and explain away the world around them."

"What _are _you on about?" Ron snapped in the Death Eater's direction with open dislike.

"It's just a _legend_," the Death Eater spat back with condescension burning in his mahogany eyes as they turned from Ron to the half-delirious Malik Ishtar.

"_What _legend?" the Pharaoh demanded sharply as within his mind the pieces began to fit together.

"The battles of Seth and Horus," was the half-laughed response from Malik as he turned his head directly towards the Pharaoh, "_Don't _you see yet?" **(3.)**

The Sennen Eye flashed painfully bright in the dim room.

"_You've _been playing them out for years. Always _you _and _Kaiba_, practicing for that one final battle when _They _return and everything else _ends_."

A horrible smile spread over the Egyptian's face and the Pharaoh could _see _the fear that was present in that lonesome lilac eye.

The Pharaoh was surprised to find himself thrown wildly out of control and suddenly Yuugi was demanding of the Egyptian, "Why _here _then? Why all of _this _if it's just about me and Kaiba?"

"Because he needed us all together," was Ryou's quiet assumption, brown eyes preoccupied with thought even as he stepped away from the window he had been leaning against.

"Shaada needed to get _you _away from your friends, to give Kaiba a reason to _need _the Rod. He needed Malik to give Kaiba the ritual and," sudden realisation sparked in the white-haired boy's eyes, "He needed _me _out of the way. I don't think it was a coincidence that Otogi and I were the only ones caught by the Ministry of Magic that day and I don't think that Malik was ever supposed to escape from the Death Eaters."

The white-haired boy gave a soft, amazed laugh and moved to stand before the Egyptian, crouching down so he could peer carefully at the other boy's face. "I suppose that Shaada told you _which _eye to sacrifice as well, didn't he?" **(4.)**

An odd shiver crawled down Yuugi's spine at just how _calmly _the white-haired boy appeared to be taking the news.

"It all makes sense now," Ryou murmured beneath his breath, "He needed people that were desperate and powerful enough to keep Bakura out of the game. Who better than modern-day wizards in the middle of a war? Toss them some sacrificial meat to earn some brownie points with the people."

That same soft laugh rose through the air again and this time it was joined by the Egyptian who seemed to have discovered whatever it was that the white-haired boy found so amusing. But then again, Malik _was _insane.

Long white hair shifted over thin shoulders as Ryou cocked his head to one side, lips curled in an oddly resolute smile, "Guess he underestimated us, didn't he Ishtar?"

"What's so funny about this?" came the sharp, angry voice of Harry Potter who had clearly had enough, "From what I can tell you lot are talking about _the end of the world _here. How is that _funny?_"

"_No_," Ryou replied turning to regard the wizard with an odd smile that looked very much as if he were in on some private joke that Harry didn't understand, "We're talking about _destiny_."

He said the word _destiny _with a very specific intonation that seemed oddly familiar to Harry.

Yuugi, however, found himself suddenly trying to smother a laugh of his own, wondering just _when _Ryou Bakura had gotten so good at imitating Seto Kaiba.

"_Kaiba's _destiny," Yuugi found himself gasping in a tight, squeezed voice that came from trying to hold back the almost hysterical giggles that were rolling up his throat.

Ryou's smile twitched again, his eyes sparkling with mirth. Malik was laughing uncontrollably now and Yuugi found himself rising to his feet and walking to stand next to the white-haired boy.

The rest of the occupants of the room were regarding them with expressions that suggested they had all completely lost the plot.

"So," Yuugi declared once he could be sure that he could speak without laughing his eyes travelling between the hysterical Malik and the oh-so _terribly _amused Ryou, "We're stopping Shaadi then?"

"Whatever's left of him after he tries to talk to Kaiba about his _destiny _that is," Ryou replied with just a _trace _of a snicker.

"You're all cracked," Rabastan informed them loudly, realisation dilating the pupils of his dark eyes, "You make _Bellatrix _look like a stable, functioning member of society. _You _make the Dark Lord look like a bloody _Greenpeace _volunteer. _You _are seriously-"

"So he's coming with us?" Ryou inquired lightly, his eyes lingering with amusement on the Death Eater before turning upon Yuugi, one fair eyebrow raising upon his forehead.

"-_Deluded. _I'd rather stay here and have tea and crumpets with _Snape_. I'd rather discuss Lupin's underwear with Albus bloody _Dumbledore _and listen to him slurp on his damned _candy_." **(5.)**

"He can stay with Malik," the King of Games replied, eyes gleaming with amusement as Malik's hysterical laughter abruptly stopped.

"_I'm _coming," the Egyptian declared with a surprising amount of lucidity, determination had cast the shadows from his eyes and for the first time since he had accepted the Sennen Eye, Malik Ishtar seemed completely in control of himself. "You _need _me."

'_He knows Shaada's plans,_' was the Pharaoh's solemn input. _He _didn't seem to find it the least bit funny.

"Then," Yuugi found himself saying as he turned toward the Death Eater, "It looks like _you're_ coming with us."

"If _he's _going," Harry declared loudly with narrowed eyes fixed on the Death Eater, "Than _I'm _going."

"_Harry_!" Hermione hissed, her eyes wide with horror, "_You _can't go out there! Not _now_."

Ron clapped his friend on the back, "I'm going too then."

"_Ron_, don't encourage him!"

"We can't just let _Lestrange _loose on society again can we?" Ron retorted.

"This is _ridiculous_," the witch muttered to herself, already realising that she had lost the battle before she'd even begun.

As the assembled group dissolved into bickering and planning, none of them even noticed that Ryuuji Otogi had slipped from the room, his own plans already taking shape within his mind.

* * *

If there was one thing Ryuuji Otogi had learned over the last few weeks, it was that for all of the history, the stories and the bad blood between them, the Wizarding world had _no _idea what his people were capable of.

What Otogi _knew _about life was that there was always an underlying sense of balance to the affairs of the world. It was an ideal that had followed from the culture that had shaped him as a child and that he had carried, subconsciously, ever since. It was a concept that the entire framework of his existence had been built upon and that shaped his every action.

It was not a new concept. It was something that had been practiced and re-examined in thousands of ways since the dawn of time. In science they taught that every action had a reaction, in Buddhism they weighed such ideas in karma, the Ancient Egyptians had embodied the idea in Maat, for the warrior tribes of the Pacific it was practiced as _Utu _and his father, a rash and impulsive man (much like Otogi himself) had distilled the concept right back down to '_an eye for an eye_' pure vengeance.

For Otogi life was about reciprocity.

The Game Creator had listened and learned as Remus Lupin taught him the history of his people and their relationship with the Wizarding world. He had absorbed each morsel of information he was given, desperate to learn _why _people he had never met before in his life could hate him so openly, so blindly as to throw him away into the desolate prison that the Wizards called _Azkaban._

He had been led to a painfully simple conclusion - and that was _fear_.

For all of their years of superiority (and the lording of said superiority over every other magical race that existed), for all of the strength and might that the Wizarding world had ever possessed; they were terrified. Terrified of the strength of the enemies they had made and _terrified _of the day when their empire all came crashing down around their ears.

And more than that, they were afraid of _him._

It was ridiculous really, when he thought about it. Otogi had never displayed any real inclination towards magic in his life - the extent of the magical blood he'd inherited hovered between a natural inclination towards good fortune (a trait that had been well used over the years) and an overabundance of charisma that ensured he usually got his own way. His grandmother had always told him he had something of the golden touch.

Ryuuji, however, wasn't stupid. He had kept his eyes wide open during his time in the wizarding world and he was fairly sure he _knew _why a largely magic-less foreign kid had been cast into that little slice of hell on earth.

He'd just been _some kid _in the wrong place at the wrong time until the moment an Auror discovered just what that tattoo on his cheek _meant _and realised that, _boy_ had they picked the wrong people to mess with.

And then that bumbling stupid man in a lime green bowler hat that had, in his attempts to save his own skin and win favour with his public, made the mistake of thinking he could earn a few brownie points by publicly destroying a bunch of foreign kids suddenly realised that there was no turning back now. Not now that he'd unleashed a whole new level of hell on his already besieged little world in the form of a bunch of teenagers with some particularly malicious golden trinkets and the kid with a tattoo who might just bring about the ruin of them all.

And he had done the only thing that he could think of, he had banished a disbanded Gypsy kid into what was essentially a black pit on earth never to be seen again. After all, what went into Azkaban was never _meant _to come out again.

But Otogi _had _come out of there and suddenly, he had realized that _he _was going to be the one to bring the whole bloody Wizarding world crashing down. _He _was going to make sure that that stupid man in his awful lime green hat got what was coming to him, that he _knew _that he'd chosen exactly the wrong people to mess with that day that seemed almost a lifetime ago.

With these thoughts racing through his mind Otogi slipped, unnoticed, from the living room with the spirit of Sirius Black tailing him.

'_You'll need help_,' the spirit insisted as Otogi wound through the passage-way towards the kitchen where he was certain he could find the rest of the household.

The Game Creator paused, glancing sideways at the spirit with interest. '_I'm a fugitive of your Ministry of Magic remember, it's not exactly in their best interests to be seen escorting me around_.'

'_That depends on exactly _how _they appear to be escorting you_,' Sirius retorted with a decidedly smug expression.

A slow, amused smile crawled over Otogi's lips as he eyed the spirit with a renewed interest, "I like you," he declared suddenly. "It's a pity you're mostly dead."

"I like to think so," Sirius replied, a mischievous gleam entering his eyes at the prospect of what was to come.

Otogi Ryuuji had always been a man with a plan and it seemed that suddenly he had a new one - he might not be able to save the world, but he sure as hell was going to pay everything that he had suffered forward.

Cornelius Fudge wouldn't know _what_ had hit him.

* * *

Mokuba couldn't help but think that it was all ridiculously familiar.

"Get a new plot device," he groaned towards the raging heavens as wind-lashed rain drove over him, "This is getting _really _old." **(6.)**

The younger Kaiba brother struggled against the seemingly _nothing _that tethered his arms to his sides and his legs together and only succeeded in flailing spasticly for a moment before he sank back, panting for the effort, against the concrete rooftop.

Before the man had appeared, as though by magic, in the elevator he had been occupying, Mokuba had never seen the man in his life.

Cloaked and turbaned in a blinding shade of white that only made his deeply tanned skin look darker and his pale, milky-blue eyes look stranger, the man (if you could really call him _that_) had calmly gripped Mokuba by the shoulder and before the younger Kaiba brother could protest that now _really _wasn't a good time for him to be kidnapped, thanks anyway, they had both been on the rooftop in the midst of one of the largest storms to hit London in ten years.

_And _now he couldn't even move.

_This day really, really, _really_ sucks_, the younger Kaiba decided as sopping wet hair clung to his face, _Really._

"You are fortunate, Mokuba Kaiba," the man told him in a soft, strangely compelling voice that immediately set Mokuba on edge as he knelt before the younger Kaiba.

Those milky-blue eyes surveyed him hungrily, excitedly and Mokuba realised with a shiver that the man didn't blink half as much as he should.

"_You_ are the final step. The last piece of the puzzle."

And then, with a flash of gold in the rain-soaked air, the stranger stabbed him.

* * *

**Footnotes:**

**1. **I really, really don't know where that came from. _Really_.  
**2. **Now _what _has Set been doing to that Duel Disk..  
**3. **If you're at all familiar with the myth, things should be beginning to fall into place around about now. If not, well, there's always google (or the next chapter).  
**4. **Left, by the way.  
**5. **That sentence gives me chilling visions of Dumbledore as a trench-coat wearing old man offering candy to small children.  
**6**. But he's just so _fun _to kidnap.

**

* * *

****AN: **It's alive! It's alive! Long time no see, consider this chapter my New Years present wrapped up in apologies to all of you who have suffered my lack of updates for so long. I've spent the last two weeks of my monstrously short break trying to get this out while my mind is plagued by other plot-bunnies. As such I don't think it's my best work, but as we say down in brave Kiwi-land, She'll do alright.

* * *

"_It's like we've got a contract on us. Do you think it's cause we're so awesome? I think it's cause we're so awesome._"

* * *


	34. Cry, 'Havoc'

Chasing the Dragon

** Chapter Thirty Three  
**Cry, '_Havoc_!'

_- Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus _-

* * *

Mokuba could hardly breathe for the shock of it all. He couldn't reconcile the idea that it was his blood painting the helipad that watery shade of red, that all of that garishly bright, hot liquid spilling over his hands was not a cool effect from the horror movies he watched while Seto was working.

It was real, it was _his_ and there was far too much of it escaping through his fingers no matter how tight he clenched them.

The pain came like a flash, bright and sudden as the lightning that was drawing ever closer, a vicious whip that tore through his belly until he choked on the rain and gasped into the air. It was how he imagined it would feel to burn but how _anything_ could burn under that sky he didn't know.

He forced his hands against the source of it, following scraps of words cobbled together from a First Aid course Seto had once insisted on (essential, it would seem, for all the danger that a Kaiba brother attracted) and the plethora of Hollywood movies that Seto rolled his eyes at.

_Stop the bleeding, _a dashing, square-jawed man would declare, summoned as if by magic by the desperate cry of, '_Is anyone here a doctor?'_ The every-man's superhero in a blindingly white coat.

But this wasn't like the movies and their leading men made it seem and scarlet welled between his fingers, soaked through his shirt and he didn't understand _why _the strange man in his odd, foreign clothing would want to kill him. He was twelve years old and he didn't want to die.

The man paused in his determined, careful steps, chanting ancient words against the elements that stilled the furious weather, if only for a moment, where he stood. His head craned around, neck twisted to an unnatural angle to stare through the rain at Mokuba and after a moment he smiled.

"You do not understand that your fate has been many millions of years in the making," his voice was soft and stern, as if Mokuba's behavior was somehow disappointing to him.

_Stay awake_. That was another one from the movies; if you fell asleep you might never wake.

Mokuba forced himself to find his tongue, his breath rattling disconcertingly as he stumbled over the only word that would form between his chattering teeth, "_Wh-why?_"

As the man looked at him, there was something so far removed from humanity in those strange, vacant eyes that Mokuba wondered if the thing before him had ever resembled a human being. He watched the water pooling around the Mokuba turn a sickly pink, his expression distant and distinctly unimpressed, before he eventually spoke.

"Long ago, when this world was young and the stars were new, there were two brothers. The first of these was a noble king. He was wise and beloved by his people and under his rule the vast lands of _Khemet_ were united into one, powerful kingdom. But, he had a wicked brother.

"This brother dwelled in the harsh, unforgiving desert-land outside of his brother's kingdom and over time he came to covet the empire that the king had built. The wicked brother devised a plan to betray and murder the king and take the great kingdom for himself. He persuaded the king to visit him in his desert home and there he murdered him, hewing the king's body into sixteen pieces and scattering them far across the vast kingdom. He returned in the king's place, wearing the crown and took up his throne.

"But what the wicked brother had not known was that the king had a son, the rightful heir to the throne. The son vowed that he would take revenge against his treacherous uncle and many, fierce battles were fought between them, but neither could ever rightfully claim the victory. In one battle the uncle ripped the left eye from his nephew's head, in another he was forced to flee to his desert home and hide as a serpent from the fury of his nephew.

"The battles continued until, at last, the nephew drove his uncle into exile and claimed his throne, he was Horus, the God-King, and his treacherous uncle, Seth, was forced to hide in defeat, but always with the threat of his return. It was said that when next Horus and Seth did battle, the whole world would be covered in darkness, that chaos would overrun Ma'at and the waters of Nun would swallow up the world.

"Many thousands of years after the defeat of his foe, another Pharaoh faced the same treachery. A great darkness had spread over Khemet and monsters roamed the lands, this Pharaoh sacrificed his own soul to seal away this darkness, but little did he know of the danger he'd left behind. The serpent had been waiting a long time to reclaim his throne but the Pharaoh's advisers had recognized him for who he was. They sealed him away as the Pharaoh had sealed himself, to wait for the day when the final battle would come. When the gods would once again walk this earth and all the empires of men would fall."

Vacant blue eyes watched, unblinkingly, as Mokuba writhed against the wet concrete, his breaths sounding in loud, strangled gasps and one hand pressed hard into the wound in his belly. He took the few steps to Mokuba's side and bent to peer intently at his face.

Mokuba watched as the hems of his robes were slowly stained pink and tried not to show the fear that was building beneath his pain.

"Do you understand now?"

The man's words were spoken softly yet Mokuba could hear him clearly over the roar of the storm around him, "History will always repeat itself, one way or another, Mokuba Kaiba. If Setekh had done his duty, my interference would not have been necessary."

For the first time since Mokuba had met him the man's face changed, an ugly flash of a smile as lips curled back and teeth were bared. The High Priest's name slid like a curse on his tongue.

"_Begun by blood, by blood undone_," he murmured to himself as he rose back to his full height, began retracing the same steps he had walked earlier with careful precision, "You, _Asar_, are the key, your blood will rouse your sleeping brothers." (**1.**)

That horrible smile never left his face as he retraced his steps, the ancient words he chanted sounding out louder against the rage of the storm that was drawing ever closer.

Thunder crashed, so close that the building's great rivers of glass shuddered in their frames and the giant _Kaiba Corp_ logo was briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning.

Mokuba had the sinking feeling that things were going to get a hell of a lot worse.

* * *

Set cut an imposing figure, wild and fey and steeped in darkness of the same ilk that taunted the crumpled man at his feet. The shadows had found a home in him, _he _who had spent so long in their company, they crept the length of his calves, burrowed into the buckles of his boots and stirred restlessly in the darkest depths of his eyes.

The stranger in their midst was a curiosity, a folded heap on the ground that they crept and snuck and edged toward. They were hungry (always hungry) and this stranger with his quivering, gaping jaw and trembling fingers, was an offering, the very stench of his fear an invitation. They bode their time, creeping and shuffling, held back only by the stern, amused wave of a hand by the man who had summoned them.

_Not yet_, those eyes commanded and like chastised children they retreated, waiting.

Dawlish had heard reports of the darkness that had enveloped the area outside the Leaky Cauldron that afternoon which seemed a lifetime ago, the day that a London street had been torn apart by a terrifying creature that living witnesses had seemed to agree was a dragon (a dragon that not one of them had been able to identify as a known, living breed).

He remembered the bounty hunter who had confronted Kaiba alone and now kept a permanent bed in the Janus Thickey Ward at St. Mungo's (which, he realized somewhat deliriously, brought a whole new meaning to the phrase _you wouldn't want to meet him in a dark alley_). He had seen for himself the group of Death Eater's that had been found alone in a Muggle suburb, chattering nonsense and lost within their own minds.

Dawlish had known the moment he set eyes on Seto Kaiba that he was a danger to the wizarding world. Only now was he beginning to realize just _how_ dangerous he actually was.

For the first time in years he saw clearly, like a fog that had accumulated in his mind had suddenly dispersed and left him now, naked and aware. Seeing that face poised above him, pale and unnaturally bright amidst the stark darkness that wreathed his form, Dawlish suddenly knew that his actions had been guided. That everything that had brought him to _this _point had been a carefully choreographed dance and he had taken up his role without even the slightest attempt at resistance.

He was a fool, he realized, and now he was going to pay the price for it.

He pressed his eyes shut, tight, and gold seared his eyelids as those words taunted him, soft and menacing; _Would you like to play a game?_

Because, for the strange _not_-child in front of him, this _was _a game. All of this, life and death, destruction and chaos, was a _game_ and all that _they_'d done, all that _he'd _fought for was about to be wiped clean and the board reset for the next match.

With a bored, permissive wave of Kaiba's hand the shadows crashed into him, over him, pulling and tugging and yearning. Hungry, desperately needy little things that clawed through the flesh and went straight for the soul and as he opened his eyes to _see _for the last time before all that he was could be snatched away into the black, he saw only cold and calculating blue.

He saw his end_._

_

* * *

_

Sirius Black had learned the hard way not to believe in coincidences.

After all, when a childhood friend's animagus form turns out to be a _rat_ there was a certain amount of foreshadowing that really had to be taken into account. When said rat turned out to be the double-crossing turncoat who told a murderous Dark Lord exactly where to find your gone-to-ground best friend's family and then set you up as their (and his) murderer, you begin to think that, _really, _you should have seen it coming.

It had been a hard learned lesson, but Sirius thought that he'd gotten the message: Sometimes a rat really _is_ a rat.

So when the day that Sirius Black (or rather, the part of his soul that had been moping around the gloomy confines of Azkaban) had first sensed the presence of Otogi Ryuuji, he had known that it was no coincidence.

Sirius, with all the historical wealth of hatred and bigotry of the purest of Pure-Blood families behind him, had known the moment he'd felt it what the kid was. His spirit had been a blinding force straining against the ugly confines of that dismal place and even a shredded, miserable soul like his could feel it.

A long time ago, Sirius' ancestors had played their part, with gusto he was sure, in decimating, disgracing and then disbanding the Gypsy clans from the British Isles. It had been an odd twist of fate that the last named descendant of the Black family, whose participation in the historic wars was somewhat legendary, would come to owe the very fate of his soul to a half-cast Gypsy kid who was more interested in flirting with anything that had a pulse than raising hell with wild and untamed _majicks _like the Gypsy clans of wizarding history books.

It was of no great surprise to Sirius when, at some ungodly hour on that desolate island in the middle of a storm-tossed ocean, Ryuuji Otogi's cell had been blasted half to hell and a decidedly dashing figure of a Weasley had quite cheerfully asked if he would like a ride the hell out of there.

Sirius (never one to pass up an opportunity) had hitched himself a ride out of there and been less surprised than he should have been that it had landed him right back at the ancestral family home. Like his whole life hadn't been spent trying to escape his family's influence, his not-Death had apparently decided to follow suit. (**2**.)

More than that, upon finding the old homestead had been beset by similarly strange foreigners (whose violent _majicks _made the kind he had grown up with feel like he'd brought a gun to a goddamn bazooka fight) Sirius had, for the first time thought that maybe there was a _reason_ he was (sort of) alive. That beyond easing the suffering of his last true friend and his godson, beyond sneering in Snivellus' face _one more time_, he had thought that there was an honest _reason _for his continued (almost) existence.

And if it had something to do with those damn kids, well, he could (sort of) live with that.

Needless to say, Sirius was not pleased to discover that he had survived the _very _painful process of having his soul torn apart, the frankly kind of exciting task of searching out all the missing pieces, just to face what was apparently a very _final _ending to everything he knew, in an apocalyptic kind of way.

It seemed ridiculously unfair that the battle that they had fought for so long, the endless slog of death and agony in the name of saving the magical world had suddenly been supplanted by a bunch of foreign teenagers and their melodramatic, world-ending style of grudge-match.

Sirius couldn't bring himself to reconcile the idea that so many friends and _not-quite-_friends, so many allies and enemies that had died (and in some cases, _mostly_ died) during the two violent wars that Voldemort had waged against their world had done so in vain. That it all meant _nothing _now that these teenagers with their flashy gold trinkets and doom-saying prophecies had nanced their way into the magical world and were about to bring it all to an end.

_Really_, Sirius found himself thinking as Ryuuji Otogi stalked the corridors of Grimmauld Place, _What was wrong with a Chosen One and a somewhat clichéd Dark Lord deciding their fates in a winner-takes-all duel to the death?_

Sirius had come to realize that prophecies were strange, pesky things and sometimes they were best left on their dusty little shelves in the Ministry of Magic, lest someone accidentally realize that they were supposed to happen. (**3**.)

Unfortunately, too many events had been set into motion that day in the Ministry of Magic when a bunch of dusty prophecy orbs had wound up in Death Eater hands and now that group of teenagers had the fate of both the Muggle and Magical worlds in their hands.

Sirius knew, somehow, that nothing he did would be able to put a stop to what was coming. He also knew that the plan that he and Otogi had tentatively begun to hatch was equally worthy of attention, yet somehow it didn't have quite the same ring of importance to it as something that could be cheerily labeled as _the_ _apocalypse._

Otogi, however, didn't seem the least bit worried. He was, to Sirius' eyes at least, completely focused on the goal he had set himself, paying no mind to the fact that, should things unfold the way they were intended to, his own role would be utterly irrelevant.

"I'm not sure you understand the full implications of the word _apocalypse_," Sirius observed out loud as he planted himself firmly in Otogi's path..

Otogi waved a hand airily as if to disperse Sirius' presence as he continued straight through him, lips cracking in an amused smile.

"I get the gist," he threw over his shoulder, his dark hair swaying dramatically as he pushed through the kitchen door.

"A-_poc-_a-_lypse_," Sirius enunciated after him, doggedly pursuing him and trying his best to ignore the way the door swung shut _through _him. That kid had _no _respect for the _mostly_-dead.

"Heard you the first time," Otogi said as he assessed the assembled group of wizards and witches in the kitchen with a thoughtful eye.

"Now isn't the best time, Ryuuji dear," Molly said, her eyes darting to where Dumbledore sat at the head of the table.

Otogi threw a flippant, charming smile in Mrs Weasley's direction as if he hadn't been listening at all, before promptly ignoring her in favor of Dumbledore's keen stare.

Sirius, never a character to be easily dissuaded (and also, never stupid enough to dismiss a Prewett in such a fashion), swept straight through Otogi to stand in front of him. A small, smug corner of his mind sneered, _see how he likes it_, before he cocked his transparent head to the side.

"You realize this plan of yours won't mean diddly-squat if the world ends, don't you?"

Otogi gave him a look that did it's best to imply that Sirius' inability to move passed this fact was boring him. His voice was dripping with sarcasm as he replied, "Yes, I'm aware, but I didn't realize you'd decided to join the amateur drama club _that _lot seem to be forming."

Sirius scoffed at the idea that _Otogi _had the audacity to imply anyone was being melodramatic.

Clearly catching the implication, Otogi's face twisted in a scowl before he spoke again, "The balls of the situation, as Bakura so eloquently explained, is that the entire premise of this _apocalypse,_ as you keep calling it, rests on the idea of Seto Kaiba accepting his _destiny_."

Otogi, overrun by the decidedly inappropriate desire to laugh, glanced around the room for someone to share in his amusement, let out a beleaguered sigh at the complete lack of comprehension and settled on a decidedly condescending smile. "Forgive me for not pissing my pants with fear."

Ignoring Sirius' arched eyebrows and the awkward silence from the rest of the kitchen (that had, coincidentally, settled around about the time the word apocalypse had been mentioned), Otogi strode down the table (pointedly _through _Sirius) to plonk himself into the non-space between the bemused figures of Charlie and Bill. He elbowed himself some additional room before directing his attention to Dumbledore, flashing a broad smile before he declared, "We need to chat."

* * *

As a rule, dragons were not the easiest of creatures to deal with.

They were temperamental, possessive creatures with a hankering for creature comforts and shiny objects. They liked what they liked and hated what they didn't. They were difficult, highly intelligent and dangerous creatures and it had been with good reason that the Ministry of Magic had declared it illegal to keep them as pets.

Wizards had (mostly) learned, as some parts of the Muggle world hadn't, that keeping wild animals as pets was a very bad idea. You never knew when they might rip your face off. (**4**.)

Kleidon did not like water. He didn't like the way that the thick, plush carpeting squelched beneath his paws or the water pooled in the folds of his wings. He didn't like the sour, acrid taste that the smoke inflicted on his tongue and he didn't like the screeching, wails that were assaulting his sensitive ears.

But most of all, he did not like the solid oak doors that were blocking his chosen goal.

It was a rare thing for a dragon to regard any other creature with anything but contempt, but over the past few weeks Kleidon had taken a very _un_likely liking to the tall human and his shiny buckles. It was thus that the unfortunate fate of the very expensive doors was to be reduced to very charred ruins.

Until that point in time, Kleidon had yet to intentionally utilize his fire-breathing abilities.

The fire took to the heavy wood with considerable gusto and the dragon, decidedly pleased with his accomplishment, moved in close to the flames to enjoy the warmth while they did their work.

The miserable downpour of fire-sprinklers failed to douse the new source of fire as it took hold of the largely dry doors and it took a depressingly short time for the dragon fire to render the doors unrecognizable.

* * *

Harry didn't really know how he got himself into these situations.

Some people (_Hermione_) would say that he had an insufferable need to insert himself into other people's business. That he couldn't leave well enough alone. That he was a typical Gryffindor with more bravery than sense and, _no, _that wasn't actually a compliment, _thank you very much_. Others (_Ron_) would probably say, _I dunno mate_, clap him on the shoulder and cheerily follow him into the fray, because that was what best friends did in Ron Weasley's world.

All Harry really knew about his incessant need to get in the middle of every dangerous situation within reasonable proximity of his location at any given time, was that it had become kind of a regular thing and maybe he should think about that.

His heart was jack-rabbiting in his chest and his gut was squirming, his subconscious murmuring, _reckless, _even as memories of the ill-fated chase through the Department of Mysteries whirled through his head. Death and pain and Voldemort were on a spin-cycle in his head. It had been mere months and already he was throwing himself into another impossible situation. He should feel guilty, sneaking out from beneath the Order's noses yet again. He doesn't know what to make of the fact that he doesn't.

Ron's face was stormy, the tips of his ears red and his eyes almost as thunderous as the skies overhead while Ginny, by comparison, was utterly triumphant and Hermione, well, Hermione just looked worried. Her eyes constantly skittered from a vigil of their surroundings to the hunched, unenthusiastic shoulders of Rabastan Lestrange who was firmly ensconced in the middle of the group they were trailing through unfamiliar streets.

Harry's hand was wrapped around his wand, stuffed in his pocket in an attempt to seem less conspicuous to the people that were already staring blatantly at their odd group. It was, he was certain, an entirely wasted effort.

Bakura was at the head of their group, long spindly fingers holding the glowing Ring before him, occasionally crooning nonsensical words into his hands as if it were a small child that needed cajoling to do his bidding. If their unruly appearance hadn't been enough to ensure stares, what with crazy Ishtar arm-in-arm with the bedraggled, sinister looking Lestrange, or Yuugi's _hair _alone, Harry was fairly certain that the fact they were following a bloody _necklace_'s directions around London would be.

"Not the power of the gods," Bakura snarled as he stalked ahead of them, his dark growl cutting through wind and rain alike, "_The_ gods."

He seemed particularly enraged about that part, if his constant snarling was anything to go by, and Harry couldn't quite believe how cavalier the rest of his little clique were being about the whole thing. Even crazy Ishtar, who'd been alternating between moments of lucidity and chattering away about pretty, pretty birdies from what Harry could gather, seemed to have reached a surprisingly Zen place concerning something that was potentially world-ending.

Lestrange was the only one amongst them (and, really, he was only _amongst _them because Ishtar had hooked elbows with him and muttered something about a _matching set_) who seemed suitably worried about the whole thing. Though, from the paranoid jerking of his head to all sides, Harry would guess that he was more concerned with stray _Avada Kedavra_'s popping out of the woodwork before they got the chance to meet any old gods.

It was, upon second thought, a fairly reasonable fear.

Harry's own fingers tightened around his wand and he cast a quick glance over the gawking faces that they passed. He could hardly believe they'd managed to escape Grimmauld Place without incident, each passing minute seemed like they were pushing their luck a little too far.

"Wrapped up tight in pretty human flesh," Ishtar crooned into Lestrange's ear, leaning close so his lips were only inches from the Death Eater's ear.

Harry watched as Lestrange jerked away from the intrusion and got laughed at in response, a dark, unsettling sound that caused Yuugi to whip his head around and cast a reproving glare in their direction. It was decidedly unclear to Harry who, exactly, was supposed to be babysitting who there.

"Keep your crazy to yourself would you," Ron muttered, more to himself than the pair in question, and scuffed his soaked sneakers against the pavement as his words were lost to the roar of rain.

The downpour had dampened Ron's enthusiasm for the task at hand but Ginny, armed with an _impervious _charm and Ron's clear dismay at her presence, smiled brightly at him when he met her eyes.

Harry had started to think that every single person he knew was at least partially insane.

He didn't know how long they walked for, how long Bakura's ring guided them down endless streets of people tilting their umbrella's against the wind with varying success. All Harry knew was that the storm was slowly getting worse, turning into something that the word _storm _seemed ill-equipped to describe.

The roar of the wind was primal, the rain that pelted their skin leaving it red and raw in its wake. The rolls of thunder seemed to grow longer and louder the further they walked, the buildings shuddering and groaning with each fresh assault.

The longer they walked, the more Harry noticed that something wasn't quite right. After twenty minutes Yuugi had started to veer off in odd directions as he walked before hurriedly correcting himself. After forty minutes he was weaving an awkward line back and forth, occasionally veering enough to bump shoulders with Ishtar before stumbling back into his own space with an apologetic flash of a smile.

Harry was beginning to think that this was all some convoluted, terrible joke when several things happened in quick succession.

The first was that Bakura jerked his head up from where he had been intently following the Ring's directions, his eyes trailing up, up, _up _and Harry followed them, his eyes fixing on the stark _KC _silhouetted against the stormy sky at the very top of one of the tallest buildings Harry had ever seen.

The second was that a brilliant flash of lightning struck the top of a building immediately adjacent to Kaiba Corp, London, and sparks filled the gloomy sky in a flare of blinding light, immediately followed by thunder so loud that Harry found himself instinctively covering his ears and thus completely missed the coinciding _crack! _of multiple apparitions simultaneously taking place in their immediate vicinity.

The third was that Yuugi Mutou stumbled abruptly in mid stride, swaying awkwardly in place, his hands clawing at thin air before he landed with a muted thud upon the pavement.

The last and, ultimately, the least important, was that Malik Ishtar turned his head up against the rain, let out a quiet sigh and announced, quite clearly, "It's time."

* * *

It crashed over him like a wave, a solid, reeling mass that left Set staggering drunkenly, clutching impossibly at the shadow-drenched air as though that could hold him. For a moment his heart stopped, his breath stuck in his throat and all he could do was sway and gasp for breath as something ancient, something _powerful_ flooded him whole and tried to consume him.

In an instant it had subsided, leaving only a tingling numbness that burned his limbs and made him sway drunkenly as he tried to walk and ended up crashing into a wall.

'_What was _that?' Seto breathed, straining through Set's consciousness to make himself known and resume control from Set who couldn't even seem to _think _for the power that burned in his veins.

'_I don't know_,' Set gasped back and he seemed much closer, much more tangible than he'd ever been when Seto had firm control of his own body.

The Rod burned like fire in his hand but Seto couldn't bring his fingers to release it. Instead he leaned hard against the laboratory wall and tried to breathe through the aftershock of whatever _that _had been.

He stood perfectly still for quite some time, only disturbed by the rise and fall of his chest and the burn of gold that flooded his eyelids. The strange tingling sensation that had overtaken him raced through his blood, a niggling, burning itch that left in its wake a trail of euphoria.

Slowly, finally, blue eyes cracked open and he caught sight of the limp, catatonic form that was crumpled nearby. Dawlish lay motionless, alive in that he breathed and _existed_, but his mind was so far gone that what was left was little more than a vacant shell.

Seto felt a brief surge of nausea, staring at that still form and forced himself to look away and focus on the next big challenge.

_We need to leave._

He stumbled awkwardly on limbs that suddenly felt too long, ignoring the slapping of his boots against the wet floor and the water that was plastering his hair to his forehead as he jabbed a finger at the button next to the elevator doors. He suppressed the strange compulsion to laugh as they slid open immediately with a cheerful, '_ding!_'

There was a red light flashing in the elevator but Seto ignored it. Jabbing at the designated button for the top floor he slumped against a corner and fought to control the jitters that were suddenly trembling through his limbs.

"What the _hell_ is going on?" Seto demanded aloud, only able to still his fingers by gripping handfuls of his damp trouser legs and leaning forward to soothe the soaring, dizziness that had left him lightheaded.

Set was suddenly at his side, his spirit oddly tangible as they brushed arms. Seto was pleased to note that Set looked no better than he felt. His eyes were feverishly bright, translucent skin flushed pink and every few seconds he would flicker and disappear from sight as if he were a badly projected hologram suffering static interference. The effect was disconcerting to say the least.

As the elevator shuddered to a stop and the doors rolled open, Seto was hit by a wave of acrid smoke that hit the back of his throat and burned his lungs until he was doubled over, coughing and stumbling out of the elevator.

"_Mokuba,_" he gasped as he stumbled into the hallway, keeping low as he squinted through the haze of dark smoke and the mist of water that was responsible for the squelching beneath his feet.

"_Mokuba!_" he roared again, as loudly as his burning lungs would allow.

But instead of the replying yell there was a low purring growl before something with _sharp _claws was traversing his trouser leg. His eyes were stinging from the smoke but he only needed the brief flash of watery white to recognize the creature that was nuzzling its way beneath his collar in search of shelter from the water.

It was a brief distraction, a confusion that registered only briefly in the back of his mind as he hastened his steps, peering through the smoke for those distinctive double-doors. Instead he found a smoldering wreckage of wood, still glowing bright in places with the heat that had rendered them unrecognizable. The apartment beyond was thick with smoke.

'_Not in there_,' Set insisted, his presence close and heavy as Seto made to kick the doors remains away.

"_Mokuba_," Seto insisted right back, his thoughts distilled already to nothing more than his brother's name and the single, pure compulsion to find him.

If there was one thing that Set had learned about his reincarnation it was that while there was very little that Seto Kaiba could not achieve when he put his full, undivided attention to task, there was absolutely nothing that could stop him when it came to his little brother.

Thus it was _expected _that when Set decided to seize control over Seto's body to stop him from entering the apartment that there would be a struggle. That Set probably would not _win_.

There was no struggle, no battle of the wills as Seto struggled to retain the control over his own body or Set used every trick he'd ever learned to overpower his reincarnation's sheer bull-headed stubbornness.

Instead, it was much like a key fitting into a lock.

There was a moment of terse inaction, where Set felt his entire being shudder, felt the surge of violent power trembling through his limbs, felt Seto's own being echoing his discomfort and then it all stopped.

There was nothing. It was the snap of something fitting neatly into place. Heat. Light.

On the top three floors of Kaiba Corp, London, all of the windows simultaneously exploded out of their frames in a shower of glass that hit the ground with a great crash, scattering the chaotic masses further. The streets shuddered and groaned beneath their feet, as if suddenly loaded with an unbearable weight.

Thunder rolled and crashed, so loud it was like the sky itself had split open over the building.

Atop the very same building, Mokuba Kaiba let out a low moan and curled into himself as the pinkish tinge to the rainwater around him continued to expand outwards.

When Seto Kaiba opened his eyes, they were black.

* * *

**AN: **Cue the _lolwut_'s and the _Is this bitch for real?_s cause yeah, that's right, another chapter. After how long? I'm such an awful person. lol. So for those of you who have stuck with me (oh you poor souls), I'm making a promise right now: Chapter 34 is already being written. There will be, at most, three more chapters (including the epilogue) and they will be finished.  
And lastly, a giant thank you to everyone who has ever reviewed this, I've been awfully slack in replying to your reviews and messages which makes me feel terribly ungracious, but you're all adored.

* * *

**Footnotes:  
1. **Go on, Google _Asar. _You know you want to. This isn't me hinting at anything interesting at all. (Hinting would require me being subtle..)  
**2**. I feel kind of bad for shutting Sirius right back up in that moldy old house after it drove him half-insane. Well, I say _kind of_..  
**3**. Um, this is going to sound ridiculous, but whatever, you've made it this far. This is my favorite line of the chapter.  
**4**. Chimpanzees. Just saying. D:**  
**

* * *

"_Oh, you meant spectacularly ignorant in a _nice _way._"


	35. While They Were Sleeping

Chasing the Dragon  
**  
****Chapter Thirty Four**

While They Were Sleeping

_- Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus _-

* * *

As often as words like Fate and Destiny were bandied about there was really very little that could not change, given the right circumstance.

The world worked within a system of semi-ordered chaos, topple a domino and watch them all fall. It all, really, just depended on which domino, which direction and _who _did the toppling, so to speak.

It was beautifully complex. Masterful in the infinite possibilities it presented. A player down to their last chip could win the whole game and a high-roller could lose everything in the course of one hand. It was the leveler of all things great and small.

Most human beings played with the hands that were dealt to them, bemoaning their _Fates_. Those with the inclination strategized and utilized every card they were dealt; they made the system work for them.

And then there were the others.

_They_ ignored the cards, the deck, the chips and the game itself. They'd take one look at the hand they were dealt and they'd say, "Poker? I'm more of a chess man, myself."

They saw the game for what it was, an _opportunity_, and if they were clever enough - they did not play the game, they played the players.

* * *

He slept.

Empires rose and fell. The world turned, stars died, more were born. There were wars, thousands of them, big and small. The blood of the fallen seeped deep into the bones of the earth. Life progressed. The world forgot.

He slept.

They dug up his bones but they were not _his _bones, per say. They were the bones of his kingdom, his world. They marveled and whispered and _theorized_. They deduced what they could from science, pieced together the mysteries of his world with wonder. He was a marvel of the ancient world.

He was a story. A whisper. A legend. They talked about him in classrooms and he became an _allegory_; the night sky, a desert storm, the _Sha_-headed man in a chipped painting on the side of a tomb. (**1**.)

He slept.

A million trivial things happened: Death, life, love, murder and betrayal. Just as it always had, the world moved on.

A child was born. He was brilliant and knife-sharp and emerged triumphant, unbeaten by even the ugly hand fate dealt him. He had a brother that he loved more than life itself, twice over. _He will change the world_, the magazines said.

They didn't know just how right they were.

He opened his eyes and they were blacker than the night itself.

* * *

Yuugi Mutou was carried, unconscious, into the evacuated London headquarters of Kaiba Corp between the sturdy shoulders of Ron Weasley and Harry Potter. They neatly avoided the police cordon, the fire department and the hundreds of onlookers and evacuees by the sheer luck of half-a-dozen masked lunatics in dark robes appearing in the middle of a crowded city street and opening fire. What kind of luck it was, however, they had yet to determine.

Harry had known, really, that he was tempting fate in leaving the protection of Grimmauld Place without so much as a _by your leave_.

That they had managed to escape into the building had been a miracle in itself but as they squelched across waterlogged carpet (Ron's chanted mantra of, "_Bugger, bugger, bugger,_" keeping time with every step) and ducked behind the thick marble-topped reception desk, Harry finally realized that they were very much alone.

They propped Yuugi (still unconscious) against the desk and exchanged grim looks.

"This is going well," Ron ventured at last as he turned to peer cautiously around the edge of the desk.

"Did you see which way the others went?" Harry asked, shifting his wand back to its rightful hand now that it was unemployed.

"I was a bit busy trying not to get blown to pieces," Ron retorted, his eyes shifting briefly back to Yuugi (still out cold) before his lips pressed into a thin line. "Bloody _marvelous_."

"I think Hermione and Ginny were behind us," Harry continued, edging his head carefully around the edge of the desk before hurriedly pulling back at the flash of black that caught his eye.

Ron grimaced.

"We should probably –" Harry nodded his head awkwardly in Yuugi's direction.

"_Brilliant_," Ron muttered as he shrugged an arm beneath Yuugi's shoulders.

Harry followed suit, shifting his wand back to his other hand with a grimace before catching Ron's eye, "On three?"

"Three," Ron replied.

They ran.

* * *

To Rabastan's mind, Malik Ishtar was the rough equivalent of a particularly troublesome cursed object. The kind that no matter how hard you tried to ditch it, once you'd laid hands on it, it was unequivocally _yours _until the day that you managed to break the curse or it finally got you killed.

Everywhere he went Malik brought the worst kind of luck with him and ever since their first unfortunate meeting it just so happened that wherever _Rabastan _went, Malik was sure to follow. It was a vicious cycle.

There were those that would assume that Rabastan's former life as a Curse Breaker would make him a uniquely suited individual to weather Malik's undoubtedly cursed company. Rabastan would not agree.

Rabastan didn't really _need _the additional bad luck, he had quite enough of his own to be going on with.

"You're the worst thing that's ever happened to me," Rabastan informed him bluntly, back pressed hard to the wall as he tried to catch his breath (and damn, maybe all those cigarettes _had _been a bad idea.)

"Worse than that lot trying to kill you?" Malik inquired brightly.

"Definitely," Rabastan confirmed without hesitation. "They weren't even bloody interested in me until I helped you."

"Betrayal does tend to have that effect on people," Malik agreed, pausing to consider Rabastan for a moment before adding, "And you hardly light up my life either, for the record."

Rabastan grimaced, "Glad to hear it."

"You're welcome." Malik twisted his head to peer back down the corridor they had just barreled down, he sounded decidedly pleased as he announced, "I think we lost them."

"I doubt it." Rabastan picked at his nails and shifted uncomfortably, his shoes squelching in the sodden carpet. "Bellatrix has a nose like a blood-hound."

He paused, his lips curling in a brief, vaguely amused smile before adding, "I mean, have you _seen _that profile?"

Malik sent him a mildly perturbed look, "Sorry. Was too busy being _tortured _when I met her to make the comparison."

Rabastan waved a hand airily in a manner that seemed to imply, _apology accepted_.

Malik scowled. "I may have some idea of why everybody wants to kill you."

"I never claimed to be likable," Rabastan retorted, he rubbed a hand over his chest with a frown and stood to attention. "Perhaps we should keep moving."

"Find Bakura," Malik confirmed.

Rabastan quirked an eyebrow, "Or get the hell out of here."

"_Bakura_," Malik replied firmly.

The slightly unhinged twitching of his sole, remaining eye was enough for Rabastan to shift nervously backwards and raise his hands placatingly. Water dripped down the back of his neck and he scowled.

"Of course, of _course_, we'll find your crazy-cakes little friend first," he muttered beneath his breath as they cautiously resumed their trek down their chosen corridor, "It's not like I don't have a _wand _and there are boat-loads of people trying to _kill me_ or anything is it?"

"I have an eye that can suck your soul out and trap it in a card game," Malik offered conversationally.

"Right you are then," Rabastan replied uneasily, "Lead away."

* * *

They'd stopped to rest, the Death Eater that had been tailing them successfully ditched when they'd taken to the stairs. Ron was hunched over on the steps, breathing heavily, Harry leaning against the railing and pressing a hand to the stitch in his side.

Yuugi was propped up against a wall, carefully out of the way should they need to start firing spells again.

The stairwell was eerily quiet save for the sound of their heavy breathing, the steps slippery with water beneath their feet. Harry was buzzing with adrenaline, his hands trembling as he gripped the railing tight.

"Where do you think Kaiba would be?" he wondered aloud once he'd caught his breath.

Ron shot him a blank, vaguely incredulous look.

"Right, well, obviously," Harry muttered and looked away.

Ron was edgier than usual with worry for Hermione and Ginny and the silence between them dragged awkwardly. Harry's trainers squeaked on the stairs as he shifted uncomfortably.

"How do you reckon the Death Eaters knew we were here?" Ron asked at length.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Lestrange, maybe?"

Ron made an angry noise in the back of his throat and stared hard at the wall, "Knew we shouldn't trust him."

"_We _didn't," Harry replied tiredly before sinking down onto the step beside Ron and sighing. "This is probably the _worst _rescue mission ever."

Ron snorted back a laugh. "Worse than the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry shot him a look, his lips twitching slightly. "Maybe not the Department of Mysteries."

"Oh, worse than the Chamber of Secrets then?" Ron insisted.

"No, definitely not worse than the Chamber of Secrets," Harry replied with a visible shudder. "Bloody Lockhart."

Ron echoed his sentiments with an almost fond, "Stupid sod."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the mood lifted considerably, before Ron murmured, "Could be worse then."

"Yeah, I reckon," Harry replied with a grin. "So, find Kaiba?"

"Sounds reasonable," Ron replied as he got to his feet and winced at the sloshing of his shoes. "Hold on a second."

Harry turned curious eyes on him, "What?"

"Wasn't Yuugi there before?"

Harry turned to look at the empty space where they had definitely dumped their unconscious burden earlier and frowned. "Apparently not."

They exchanged vaguely worried looks, before Ron muttered, "That's a bit rude."

"Yeah," Harry sighed back. "A bit."

* * *

They were in trouble, which, Ginny figured, just about summed up the usual state of being when you hung around Harry Potter. One big, never-ending string of troubles wherever you turned.

In the chaos that had unfolded the moment that Death Eaters had apparated into the crowded street beneath Kaiba Corp, Ginny had latched onto Hermione's hand and started running.

The crowds had been confused at first, staring bewildered at the robed figures in masks standing, quite improbably, in the middle of the street. Then they had opened fire.

It had taken one, maybe two, to fall before they'd started running, a stampede of people, pushing and shoving and slamming into one another.

Ginny had seen a flash of white and had shoved and pushed and shouldered her way after, Hermione bouncing around behind her.

The sound of police officers trying to take control, the screams of those caught amidst the crushing wall of people and hit by flying spells rose over the roar of the storm.

It was chaos of the worst kind and, as they ran, Ginny scrabbled for her wand to join Hermione's haphazard attempts to disarm the Death Eaters.

In retrospect, it hadn't been the brightest of ideas. It had simply made them targets.

Currently they were squished together beneath an office desk on the third floor of Kaiba Corp, having lost track of Ryou Bakura somewhere between the stairwell and the chaos of ricocheting spells that had driven them back into the floor space.

Hermione was pressing a handkerchief against her arm, her face grim as she readjusted her bloody grip on her wand. Ginny was biting down on her own lip, trying to stifle her very _breath _at the sound of more squelching footsteps and heavy, dark laughter.

"This is not good," she mouthed at Hermione.

The scathing look she received quite clearly said, _You think?_

"I know you're here," their pursuer spoke, his voice deceptively soft.

"_Dolohov_," Hermione mouthed, her face suddenly very pale. (**2**.)

There were more footsteps, a heavy sigh, "You can't hide forever, you know."

Ginny gripped her wand, listening intently for a clue which direction he was coming from.

"We're here for Lestrange," was the low, bored reminder from another voice entirely, accompanied by the squelching of shoes.

"_That's_ Potter's friend," Dolohov replied intently.

"Ah," the other replied, sounding no less bored for the explanation, a desk nearby creaked with additional weight.

"_Left_," Ginny mouthed, jerking her head backwards in an indication.

Hermione nodded in agreement.

Ginny shifted carefully, mindful of the waterlogged carpet as she moved on her toes. Hermione shot her a warning look.

"Come on little Gryffindors," Dolohov drawled out, "Show us how _brave _you are."

"_Right_," Ginny mouthed.

Hermione shook her head violently, her eyes sharp with warning.

"_You _take the left then," Ginny hissed in annoyance.

The footsteps stopped.

Hermione glared.

Ginny froze.

"Ah," Dolohov murmured softly. "_There _you are."

Ignoring Hermione's obvious dismay, Ginny inched further out of the desks shelter and pointed her wand in the direction of another desk just to the right. She heard the footsteps moving swiftly in their direction and took a deep breath before muttering, "_Reducto!_"

The desk exploded in a flurry of paper and metal and she heard a roar of surprise behind her as she grabbed Hermione by her good arm and hauled her out.

A quick glance as she was running showed one Death Eater on the ground. Another, _enormous _figure had his wand out and was turning on them and Ginny gaped, eyes wide until Hermione tugged her sideways.

The cubicle they'd ducked behind exploded in a storm of wood and plastic, but they kept on running, weaving in and out of the long rows of dividers. The loud _bangs _of walls and desks and everything in between being blasted out of the way cataloged the path of their pursuer.

"_Bad idea_," Hermione snarled at Ginny as they pushed through the fire doors into the stairwell, the large Death Eater's footsteps pounding in their ears.

Hermione spun on her heel and jerked her wand at the door and with a strange glow and an uncomfortable sucking sound it sealed behind them.

She let out a low puff of air, something between relief and exasperation before rounding on Ginny only to find her already halfway up the next flight of stairs.

"That door isn't going to hold forever," Ginny called down at her.

Hermione huffed back, her lips twisting in annoyance before she began to climb.

* * *

Millennia may have passed. May have traveled by in the hazy blink of his eyes. He remembered waking maybe, opening his eyes for a moment, just a brief glimpse and thinking how strange it all was.

How strange this world must be, where he sleeps and the rest of the world carried on.

The world was a passing curiosity around him, the air thick and damp. Smoke in his nostrils, water in his hair (not _his _nostrils, not _his _hair, not of consequence). His fingers brushed the charred remains of what had once been doors and he watched, fascinated, as they came back blackened.

He heard thunder, wind, the lashing of rain. Screaming, somewhere in the distance. Black dribbled from his fingertips.

_So similar_, he admired, pressed the fingers together and watched water spill, down, down. Just like rain, only inside.

He moved on. There was a door at the end of the hallway, up a flight of stairs, he pressed a hand to the surface and watched it crumble away to ashes. The wind kicked up the dust and sent it tumbling away through the air, a burst of ash lost to the miserable weather almost immediately. The wind found him next, it pulled at his hair, whipped the strange material the body was wrapped in to dramatic angles with great effect.

The rain (real rain, that is, not the kind that happened indoors) hammered at his skin.

He smiled, lifted his head, _breathed_ for what felt like the first time in, how long had it been? Too long.

It was cold. The world around him was a miserable palette of grey-on-grey, blocks of stone and metal dropped into a dreary landscape. He stood on top of the world, a stone empire stretched out around him.

It was wrong.

There was the smell of blood on the wind, sharp and familiar amidst the strong, chemical stench of industry that the wind whipped up around him. There was a child lying on the ground, blood pooling around him, eyes half-closed and mouth gaping.

"_Se-_Seto," it rasped, fingers stretching for him.

He paused, stared. His mind told him, _brother, _but that wasn't right. This child was human, pitifully so. His spirit quiet, dimmed by the slow passing of his insignificant little life and yet he struggled on.

"_Set_-," the child gasped again, his breath hitching in his chest.

Yet, that was his name, one of them, at least. A name he had been called once.

_Brother_, his mind insisted.

"_Asar_," he spoke with slow disbelief, his low voice echoed by the lazy roll of thunder overhead.

The child sobbed.

The realization that he was angry came as a surprise, punctuated by another snarl of thunder overhead and the deluge of rain that pounded down around him.

"Asar," he repeated.

Beneath his feet, the building trembled.

_Brother_, his mind sobbed.

"Brother," he echoed, brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Help me," the child gasped.

'_Brother, won't you help me_?' _he gasped, hand outstretched for the knife that already dripped with red, staining the sand at his feet dark_.

There was no knife in his hand this time but the blood was there, floating away on the water that puddled beneath his feet.

It was the sheer excess of it all; the water, the rain, the blood that stains it red, it was incomprehensible to him. So much, _too much_, the world was spoiled for it. Fat for it. Such luxury, such _opulence _was unthinkable, wasteful in the extreme.

"_Enough_," he snapped.

The rain dispersed with a suddenness that should have been alarming, the wind petering out with barely a sigh. The sky overhead churned threateningly, dark and miserable, he considered it through dark eyes and tried not to hear the gasping breaths that the child was now emitting, all the clearer for the stillness that now enfolded the rooftop.

"_Se- to_," the child pleaded.

There was an uncomfortable twinge somewhere inside of him, quickly squashed by the breathless rush of recognition that tugged at his very core.

"There you are."

He turned, black eyes cold and considering as they rose to the open doorway and the figure that stood there. His lips creaked, painfully slow, into something that might have been a smile to greet his own kindred, boxed in a form as unfamiliar and unwieldy as his own.

"I've been waiting," he reproached the newcomer.

"So have I," Horus pointed out, his eyes cast towards the turbulent skies and the sweeping view of the city with unrestrained curiosity before they settled on the child.

He didn't understand it, the compulsion that had him shifting accordingly, an obstacle between Horus's gaze and the child, as if he sought to protect this odd, sniveling creature that his mind calls _brother_.

Horus's unguarded curiosity moved obligingly onto him, swept over him with interest that only the distance of time could have brought. Horus's voice was dry, reminded him of endless miles of desert and clear, brilliant skies, "You have changed."

"_You_ seem," Set frowned, his head canted to the side in study of his old rival before deciding on, "Smaller."

A chagrined expression flooded Horus's face, his eyes cast toward the churning masses of dark skies with annoyance worrying his brow.

His lips curled further in response, stiff and resistant against the motion.

"_Seto_," the child rasped.

The body turned before he could even think to have ignored it, twisting in obedience to the child's call. There was something in the child that he recognized, an air of command, a _presence _that he couldn't ignore.

The stillness of the rooftop had given way to other noises now, a bristling anger and a storm that came from within. Fury. Rage. Love.

It was distracting.

_Brother_, his mind snarled.

"It is time," he said instead, turned back to the quiet, curious figure that was his caged kindred. "One last time, Horus?"

He got a considering, quiet tilt of a head in response. "If we must."

* * *

Set slept.

It was dark where he lay, the world draped heavy over his weary head. It was still, the space outside muffled and distant.

He thought that he liked it there or that given time he could come to. It was peaceful there with time, thick and dark, wrapped around him like a blanket. He liked the quiet - it made for a nice change.

But something was missing.

It niggled and wormed his way into his dozing mind, the unease, countering the soothing silence and the dark that was so like before.

Before. That was wrong. He hadn't liked _before_. Remembered only shreds of the thousands of years trapped in darkness. He remembered loneliness, the ache of madness that came from keeping company with only the whispers of lost souls. He remembered shadows curled up inside until he became as much a part of them as they a part of him.

This was wrong.

The dark that surrounded him was not shadow at all, it was thick and heavy, stretched out like taffy around him, holding him down. Dragging him down.

_Omote_.

He woke.

* * *

Seto would not sleep.

The suggestion lay heavy-handed overhead, thick like the black that surrounded him. This was nothing he'd faced before. It was the night, he thought, sticky as tar and filled with the promise of oblivion, of a peaceful end, if only he would just _sleep_.

But Seto would not sleep.

He could feel the weight of power behind that will, vast and overwhelming. Something so immense, cosmic in its reach, he could hardly comprehend it at all. It curled around him, snug and secure in its superiority, in its strength.

He was uncowed.

Seto had learned a long time ago, when he'd bartered his way into the legal custody of Gozaburo Kaiba, the power of the insignificant, the underdog. He had been reminded many times over since then, when he'd grown complacent and overconfident, the power of the individual against the most overwhelming of odds. The way that even a god damned _Kuribo _could overthrow a dragon.

It was a matter of strategy, of confidence, of sheer stubbornness. These were things Seto had in bucket-loads.

But, most of all, it was a matter of _desire_ and Seto had never wanted anything so much in his life as he wanted to save his brother.

So he fought.

* * *

The wind had snuck up again, curling the wisps of hair against his neck.

Horus was ever patient, watching and waiting. It had been long enough now, enough battles passed for them to know how this would end. Neither would give up. Neither would back down. They were two of a kind, so very similar and so very different all at once.

This wasn't hesitation, he told himself. They had never had any need to rush things.

If he looked down he could see the tinge of pink mingling with the puddle at his feet. He didn't understand why he was so distracted by it.

He had changed, though he didn't understand _how_.

The longer he waited, the more he _felt_. A snuffling warmth of breath against his neck, the soft chuffing noises as a creature shifts, it's sharp talons digging into his shoulder. Sensation slowly returning to a being long deprived of anything other than the void.

Horus sucked in a long breath of air, head tilted to the wind, his eyes slipping shut.

It was almost companionable.

"You will not win."

_Almost._

His head snapped up, found a lazy smile drifting on Horus' face, eyes closed and utterly relaxed. He seemed entirely unaware of Setekh's indignation.

"Neither will I, if you were wondering," Horus added, almost an afterthought, as one eye cracked open to regard him. "The world doesn't belong to us anymore."

Horus gestured blandly at the panoramic view of the city, his eyes flicking towards the sky as it rumbled unhappily. He was silent, pensive, before eventually his lips quirked in a small, wry smile. "They're enterprising little things, aren't they? Amazing."

Horus even _looked_ genuinely impressed, his eyes lingering on the sight of a great wheel, towering over the structures around it, spinning lazily on the horizon. He admired it, head tipped for a better view before eventually, not even deigning to look away from the sight, he sighed, "Oh don't sulk, Setekh, it doesn't suit you at all."

He stared hard at Horus, as if he could somehow _force _him to explain himself.

"They quite forgot about us," Horus murmured instead, turning his head only briefly to peer up at the towering _KC _that stood atop their rooftop.

Then there was only silence, the plunk of the odd individual raindrop against steel as Setekh's focus shifted inward, distracted by something else entirely.

It had built slowly, beneath his notice until it began to pull at him, louder and louder, until the sound was akin to someone hammering at the inside of his skull. Until he wanted to pull at his borrowed hair, beat his hands on the side of his borrowed head, to _snarl _and curse and command the noise to silence.

It was persistent. _Agonizing_. He wanted it to stop.

Horus watched, silent and observant. Lips curved in an infuriating line that suggested he knew something that _Setekh _didn't.

"You are crying," Horus observed, keen interest following the path of said tears in their course down his cheeks.

He frowned, touched a hand to his face and stared, fascinated when it came back wet. Licked the moisture from his fingers and found it warm, salty. His fury was sudden, rising violently from within, over the roaring in his ears that sounded like nothing but the word _Mokuba_.

"Then we will make them _remember_," he snarled.

Thunder crashed around them, so loud that the building beneath them shuddered on it's foundations and on the streets below, the people continued to flee.

* * *

Bakura took his chances where he could get them.

The arrival of the wizards had been an unexpected but not unwelcome distraction, an opportunity that had been far too good to turn down. He had taken it.

Slipping away through the crowd had been easy, a breath of, _Show me_, stirring the Ring to life. Shaada was clever, perhaps even a worthy adversary, but even _he _could not hide from the Ring's power.

It was just a matter now, of time.

He had slipped the pursuit of the two girls easily, scornfully ignoring Ryou's admonishments that they were in danger and that they should go back. _Help _them. Ryou's sentimentality had been growing steadily more irritating by the hour. There were _much _more important things to consider.

Ryou let out a soft cluck of disapproval from the corner of his mind and Bakura scoffed, bit back a snarl only because it wasn't worthy of it.

"You are _soft_, Yadunoshi." He consulted the Ring again, watched the sway of pendants point him right and followed their direction. "_Shaada_ is much worthier of my attention than useless children in need of a babysitter."

Ryou sighed, entirely unsurprised that all thoughts of the _plan _they had set into motion back at Grimmauld Place had been thrown to the wind at the first glint of treasure. He really should've seen it coming.

"Not just _treasure_," Bakura reprimanded him as he slunk around another corner, eyes gleaming with the thrill of the hunt. "The _Ankh_. The _Scales_. Both under the same roof, this is an _opportunity_, Yadunoshi."

Bakura's voice was wickedly amused, taunting and _knowing _as he hissed, "You wish for retribution, do you not Yadunoshi? I can feel it. All that _anger _you're feeling. Vengeance for all your poor little _friends_, wound up in Shaada's strings."

He laughed, vicious and excited, as the Ring burned his fingertips and shuddered with proximity to its target. "As you _wish_, Yadunoshi."

* * *

Malik should have known that it would end like this.

Really, he was a teenager. He was _supposed _to be playing Xbox and being, by and large, surly and disagreeable with everything that couldn't plug into it. He _wasn't_ supposed to be waiting out the end of the world by fleeing through Kaiba's stupid glass tower with an additional, murderous personality prowling his subconscious and an equally murderous, if somewhat pathetic, dark wizard from his former-fellow henchmen.

He had spent his entire life hunted by the ancient world. Surrounded by myths and legends and silly prophecies that had only ever led him into trouble.

It was a source of never ending irony that the further he tried to run from the myths and the legends and the prophecies, the harder they bit him in the ass when they inevitably popped up around him.

"This really sucks," he panted as he slammed a hand miserably against the dead-end they'd been herded down. The floor-length pane of glass shuddered against his hand as thunder rolled, deafeningly loud around them.

He _should _have known it would end like this.

"Oh, it sucks for _you_," Rabastan sneered back as he stared miserably at the two Death Eaters leisurely advancing on them. "They're going to make mittens from my _skin_, do you understand?"

Malik's nose wrinkled.

"I've _seen _what they do to deserters," he groaned, panicked eyes flicking in all directions for an unseen exit. "Hell, I've _done _what they do to deserters. It isn't a bloody picnic."

"Alright, Lestrange?" came the light, bordering on gleeful greeting from one of the pair as they languidly approached.

"_Mulciber_," Rabastan groaned, a hand tugging ruefully at his dark hair. "Bollocks. He'll probably wear my ears as a necklace."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Mulciber replied amicably. "Perhaps your toes. Bellatrix seemed quite set upon keeping your head for her mantle."

Rabastan groaned low in the back of his throat and leaned back against the floor-length window and the enclosed walls that all equated to the same thing, _no way out._

"Ah," Mulciber was rolling back the sleeve of his long robes, "Shall I do the honors, Lestrange, or would you like to do it yourself? No? Very well."

He pressed the pad of his thumb hard against a black smudge that Malik hadn't thought much of until Rabastan let out a hiss, his own hand clutching at his arm in precisely the same spot. The second Death Eater who had waited silently, tapping his wand cheerily in his hands, rubbed ruefully at his flesh through the sleeve of his robe.

They appeared like wraiths, with sharp _crack!_s in the air_. _Three, four, five then six, but still more were arriving, seven, eight, _nine_.

Rabastan made a strangled, awful noise as he pressed back against the glass and Malik winced, felt the hiss of dark laughter echoing in his mind.

_The end_, it sang.

Malik only hoped that they would live long enough to see it.

* * *

"I want _you_," Otogi said with the air of someone about to reveal a terribly interesting secret, "To hand me over to your Minister of Magic."

He was greeted by the kind of absolute silence that only came from someone having said something either remarkably stupid or shockingly awful.

It had gone better than expected.

"You want us to hand you over to the Ministry," Kingsley clarified slowly, his expression dubious at best.

"The _Minister_," Otogi corrected.

"The Minister," Kingsley repeated with disbelief.

"The Minister," Otogi agreed. "You know? Funny little man in an ugly hat."

"We know who the _Minister _is," Bill replied, amused. "That wasn't really the point."

"It's a brilliant idea," Otogi assured the long line of stricken faces that all seemed to read with some variant of, _he's lost all his marbles, poor soul_, "Trust me, I have them all the time."

"_That_ is," Remus began before his vocabulary seemed to entirely fail him and he resorted to staring at the ceiling and shaking his head silently, as if he was alternately praying to and cursing some distant higher being.

Otogi turned his head slowly down the line of faces looking for one bright spark of understanding against the gloomy oppression of their collective disbelief. He clucked his tongue with annoyance when he finally met Dumbledore's sharp, interested stare at the end of the line. They didn't _see_.

"You're all so _blind _to your own flaws," he groaned, smacking his palms against the table with irritation as he rose to his feet and leaned across the wood to stare hard at Remus Lupin's face. "_Think_, you're the one who told _me_."

Lupin stared back at him, his forehead creased in thought as he searched for the answer in his brain before, with a soft, _oh_, his eyes widened and _there_, he understood.

"_Fear_," he murmured in understanding, his growing smile drawing lines around his eyes and cheeks and _oh_, he was almost _laughing_. "That is _brilliant_."

"I told you," Otogi replied, pleased that those who _still _hadn't caught on were now sharing their pitying _must be mad _looks out with Lupin too. "_All _the time. It's why I'm rich."

"Smarter than he looks," Sirius agreed, from where he was holding up a wall, inspecting his nails and waiting for the rest of the room to catch up. He fielded Otogi's indignant look with a shrug, "It's that daft-looking headband."

Otogi's hand reached reflexively for the item in question, before defending it with a snide, "Headbands are _cool_." (**3**.)

"For eight-year-old girls maybe," Bill interjected.

Otogi glared, "For _everyone_."

"Not really the time," Lupin intervened; though from the twitching in his cheeks it was clear he found the whole thing terribly amusing.

"_Terrible_," Charlie gasped out suddenly, as if he had only just remembered how to use his tongue. "Seriously, that has to be _the _worst plan ever. Are you drunk?"

Otogi frowned. "How can you _possibly _be that dense?"

"No, I get your plan alright. You think you can scare Fudge into setting you all loose," Charlie rose both eyebrows as if daring Otogi to prove him wrong before concluding, "I'm still sticking with terrible."

"Terribly _brilliant_," Otogi assured him.

Charlie didn't appear convinced.

"Fudge is afraid of his own shadow," Sirius threw into the conversation, "It's as good a plan as any."

"It's _reckless_," Mrs Weasley interrupted, seeming genuinely concerned as she stared down the table at Otogi. "You'll get yourself thrown back into Azkaban and this time no one will be able to break you out."

"_Audaces Fortuna iuvat_," Otogi retorted promptly, "Hiding away in this dank little house isn't going to get me my life back." (**4**.)

Half-a-dozen voices tangled together, struggling to be heard in the aftermath of his words, growing steadily louder until Dumbledore rose from his seat at the end of the table, his eyes fixed on Otogi as he raised his hands and said, "Enough."

"It is Mr. Otogi's decision, which he may make however he so chooses," Dumbledore's eyes scanned the breadth of the table and the complete silence of those assembled was almost unnatural. "And unless I am very much, mistaken, there is something of great importance that he has not yet told us."

Under the intent stares of the entire room Otogi shifted somewhat uncomfortably and hurriedly regained his feet.

"Right, well, we _may_ just need to make a small detour on the way," Otogi added cheerfully as he shrugged his jacket on and watched suspicion start to line the faces that surrounded him. "Your boy-heroes gone and got himself involved in the apocalypse is all."

* * *

**AN: **You may be asking yourself: Who is this crazy bitch, updating and whatnot? My answer: It would have been quicker if it hadn't been for these damn earthquakes. No more, earth, we get it already. Next chapter is where it all happens folks! Enjoy. ETA: Oh god, the _tense _fail! How did I miss that after the million and one edits? Fixed now.

* * *

**Footnotes:  
1. **_Sha _being the name of a wild dog-like creature that was the totemic animal of Set.  
**2**. For the record, I don't think Hermione's easily intimidated. Her reaction is based on the fact that Dolohov was barely prevented from killing her in the battle of the Department of Mysteries (which timeline-wise would only be a few months prior at this point).. And he's scary. Very, _very_ scary.  
**3. **Uh, shameless Doctor moment?  
**4**. Fortune favors the bold. ETA: Cheers, _Reikson_.

* * *

"It's a fez. I wear a fez now. Fezes are _cool._"


End file.
